The Captive Heart

Chapter Thirteen

It had taken Sir Udolf Watteson three days to be freed from his bonds. Finally one of his serving men, the only one who seemed left in his house, came into the hall and released his master. He was dying of thirst, and had pissed himself a dozen times over during his captivity. "Where the hell were you?" he demanded of his servant as the man untied the priest who was in an equally unfortunate condition.

"My lord, we were all bound and then imprisoned in the pantry," the man said. "When one of us finally managed to get free, the others were released."

"And where are the others?" Sir Udolf wanted to know.

"Gone, my lord," the serving man replied in a low voice.

"But you remained because of your loyalty to me," Sir Udolf said.

"Aye, my lord!" the servant responded.

The master of Wulfborn Hall knocked the man before him to the floor. "Liar!" he shouted. "You returned to see if I was dead, and had I been you would have stolen what you could from my house!" He kicked the cringing servant, who was trying to inch away from the angry man.

The serving man scrambled to his feet. "Nay, my lord! Nay! I am loyal. Were I not I should not have freed you and the priest from your bonds."

"He is being truthful, my lord," Father Peter said in a raspy voice.

"Go and tell the others they had best return to the hall or I shall set the sheriff upon them. When they are caught they will be branded as runaways so they cannot run ever again," Sir Udolf snarled. "Jesu! I stink of my own piss!" And his nose wrinkled in disgust. "I need to bathe. See the tub is set up in the kitchens and filled with hot water," he directed the servant. "When that is done, you will go and fetch the others back."

The serving man scuttled off to do his lord's bidding.

"My lord," the priest began, "I hope you realize how fortunate we are to be alive. The lady saved your life, although her husband would have been justified in taking it to serve honor. The other lords with him advised him not to heed her advice, but he did. We must thank God we were spared."

Sir Udolf Watteson glared at Father Peter. Had he not been a priest, the lord of Wulfborn would have struck him to the floor in his fury. "If God indeed spared us, Priest, it was so I might have my revenge upon that bold Scot and that whore he calls his wife. I will kill him! And then I will make that little bitch take her place by my side as she should. I will fuck her until she gives me a son. And then I will keep fucking her so she bears me more sons until she is worn with birthing and her tits are no longer firm and round, but slack from all the sucking my sons will do upon her. She is mine! I have a dispensation to wed her that says so. She will not continue to defy me or the church!"

The priest drew in a long breath. "My lord," he said softly, "let this anger and lust that is so consuming you go. The lady is another's wife."

"Priest, do not try my patience," Sir Udolf said grimly. "I will go to the king about this matter. I will have my justice!"

"My lord, what influence have you with this new king? Be reasonable," Father Peter advised. "You sheltered a fleeing king while another was crowned in his place. If that were to get out, you could lose all you have. And you seek to marry the goddaughter of that disposed king's queen. Think, my lord, think! Why would King Edward give you aid and comfort? He won't, and you may endanger yourself in the process. Alix Givet does not want you as a husband. She made that patently clear when she ran away. She has wed another man. Is having his child. Why do you persist in embarrassing yourself over this woman? I can find you a good wife, my lord. A woman of childbearing years. A widow who has already proved fecund. A virgin if you prefer. Do not shame yourself over what has happened."

"I will have my justice, and I will have my revenge," Sir Udolf answered the priest. "She is responsible for my son's death. If she had been a better wife to him he would have left the miller's daughter and cared not if she died in childbed. His heart would have not been broken when Maida died. He would not have died. I offered Alix Givet a home, a place of honor within my house, and my family. I sheltered her father in his last days and buried him honorably. And then she repays my kindness when I wish to make her my wife by whoring with another man, carrying his bastard!" The lord of Wulfborn Hall had begun to foam slightly at the mouth with his fury. "I will have my justice and my revenge, Priest!" he repeated. "I will!"

The priest sighed unhappily. The madness that had afflicted his master over the matter of Alix Givet was not abating. Only the return of the servant announcing that Sir Udolf's bath was ready caused him to cease his pleas. And he too needed to bathe himself, for he stank from their three-day captivity. "I will leave you, my lord, to refresh yourself," Father Peter said. And he bowed himself from Sir Udolf's presence to return to his own little cottage near his church. The fire was almost out, but the wood box was full. He soon had the flames in his hearth dancing merrily.

Heating some water, he stripped off his garments and scrubbed his scrawny frame free of odor. He did not allow himself the luxury of bathing too often, for it was a vanity he could ill afford, but the circumstances today warranted a thorough cleansing of his person. He hurried, however, through his ablutions for the air was icy. Then he redressed himself in a clean chemise and his only other robe. Clean and dry, he knelt down on the stone floor of his cottage and began to pray. Father Peter hoped his pride was not deceiving him, but he believed if he just had some more time he might convince Sir Udolf to let go of his anger and his disappointment so that he might find another to wed.

And it seemed as if God was answering Father Peter's prayers. Sir Udolf grew ill with an ague the following day, taking to his bed for the next several weeks. Some of the servants, although not all of them, had returned. While Sir Udolf lay abed he knew little about the state of his household except there was a woman who came to care for him during the day and a young man who sat by his bedside at night. He was spoon fed soup and a gruel of porridge and heated wine into which an egg and some spices were beaten. By the time he had recovered enough to get out of his bed the hard winter had set into Northumbria, and travel of any kind was next to impossible. But with the coming of winter the remaining servants had returned to Wulfborn Hall, slipping quietly back into the roles they had previously held.

Father Peter pursued his campaign to get Sir Udolf to consider other candidates for his hand. "Sir David Sheffield has a much younger half sister from his father's second marriage. She is no more than twenty, and has not yet had a husband," he said to Sir Udolf. "Her dower is small, 'tis true, but her reputation is excellent, my lord."

"I have seen her" came the answer. "She is a plain creature with mouse-brown hair and a long nose. And how could I be certain she was fertile?"

"Her mother had two sons as well as the daughter, my lord. And then her husband died. Who knows how many more children she would have born her lord had he not?"

"She is still plain," Sir Udolf complained. "She is nothing at all like Alix, who was so fair with her honey-colored curls and laughing hazel eyes."

"Is it said, my lord, that all cats are black in the dark," the priest murmured.

"Priest! You shock me," Sir Udolf said half-angrily.

"I was a man before I was a priest, my lord," Father Peter replied softly. "There is also Sir John Graham's widow. She is yet young."

"She bore him no children," Sir Udolf said.

"She was a third wife, and he an old man," the priest responded. "Her position is a difficult one as her stepson's wife resents her presence." Father Peter was surprised that Sir Udolf knew as much as he did about his neighbors, as he hadn't associated with many of them in years. But then the servants were great gossips and not averse to sharing what they heard. Of course, that went both ways, and he wondered if Sir Udolf's neighbors knew of his insane obsession for Alix Givet. And if they did, would they be willing to put one of their women into his charge? When it was possible to travel again, he would put out feelers, Father Peter decided.

Finally the spring came, and Sir Udolf Watteson announced his plans to travel south to seek out King Edward IV There was no reasoning with him, although Father Peter did his best to dissuade his master from this folly. "I will come with you," the priest finally said.

"Nay," Sir Udolf replied. "I will go alone. I will show the king my dispensation from York, and he will uphold my rights. By summer's end Alix Givet will be my wife."

"I will pray for you, my lord," the priest said, and he watched as Sir Udolf rode away on an April morning from Wulfborn Hall.

The Northumbrian baron rode south for several weeks until he finally found the new king briefly in residence at Windsor Castle. Finding the king, however, and getting an audience with him were two different things. Bribes were taken by servants with no real access to the king, but Sir Udolf did not know it. Finally he found a priest who knew the king's confessor. He poured out his tale to the priest, who was touched by what he had heard, and not just a little offended by the attitude of the Scots bishop of St. Andrew's. The priest went to the king's confessor, and finally Sir Udolf had his chance to speak with the king on the night before he was to move from Windsor and on to another castle. Clutching his papers, he was ushered into the king's presence.

Edward IV was a tall, handsome young man with inquisitive blue eyes and golden-red hair. He had been nineteen when crowned two years earlier. A skilled warrior, he was also a man who loved women and was never without one. To date he had not wed, although there was talk of a foreign princess. Unlike his predecessor, Henry VI, whose descent from Edward III, his great-great grandfather, was a direct one-through his father, Henry V, his grandfather, Henry IV, and his great-grandfather, John of Gaunt who had been the fourth son of Edward III's twelve children-Edward IV, while descended directly from Edward III's fifth son, Edmund of Langley, claimed the throne based on the convoluted connection he had with his great-great-grandfather's second son, Lionel of Antwerp, through his only child, Philippa. Given the state of Henry VI's fragile health and the strength of Edward of York's adherents, he was now England's king.

Sir Udolf was ushered into a small chamber with a fireplace and a single chair where the young king now sat. This would not be the public audience he had hoped for, but at least he had managed to gain the king's ear. He bowed.

The king's eyes caught him in a hard gaze. "You are from the north," he said. It was not a question, but a statement. "Were you at Towton?"

Sir Udolf hesitated, but then he answered, "Aye, I was." He somehow felt that this young man knew the answer to the question before he spoke, and to lie would not help his cause at all.

"You fought for my predecessor, Lancaster." Again a statement.

"Aye, my lord."

"When did you last see him?" the king wanted to know.

"I have not seen King Henry since he went into Scotland," Sir Udolf replied.

"Hmmm," the king said. Then, "What is it you want of me, Sir Udolf Watteson?"

"Justice, my lord," the baron said.

"What sort of justice?" King Edward asked.

"My son was wed to a young woman." He hesitated, but then decided he could not prevaricate too greatly. "She was Queen Margaret's goddaughter, the child of her personal physician. Her mother had been one of the queen's ladies, and come with her from Anjou. Queen Margaret could no longer afford to keep her physician or his daughter with her. I needed a wife for my only son. The bargain was struck. My son died some months later. His wife's father as well. Because I now needed another heir, I sent to Yorkminster for a dispensation to marry the lady. There had been no children of the marriage, and so we shared no blood bond."

The king nodded. "Go on, Sir Udolf." He was fascinated by this tale, and wondered where it would lead. He also wondered if the physician's daughter had been a pretty girl. Probably she was, that Sir Udolf coveted her.

"My bride-to-be was overwhelmed by all that was happening, had happened. In confusion she fled my home. When I found her, she was mistress to a Scots border lord. She would not leave him despite the fact I had the dispensation to wed her. I sent an armed party to take her one day as she rode out."

Edward of York sat up in the chair where he had been so casually sprawled. The tale grew more intriguing and he was frankly fascinated.

"She locked herself with a servant in her chamber," Sir Udolf continued. "She claimed she was already wed to the border lord. That my dispensation was no longer valid. But, my lord, I had the prior claim on her. She was already with child when I brought her home. I told her I would see her bastard returned to its sire, but she would not listen to reason. And then this border lord attacked my home, stealing my livestock, carrying off my people, and demanding I return his wife. I naturally refused, but then he returned with a larger party of men and took her back, almost killing me and my priest. I have not seen her since."

"If the woman is wed and with child, Sir Udolf, it would appear to me the matter is settled. What is it you seek of me, my lord?"

"I want you to uphold the dispensation I gained from York," the baron said. "I want you to communicate with Queen Marie of Scotland and demand she see that Alix Givet, for that is her name, is returned to me with all possible haste. The woman is mine by right. I have my dispensation! We are at peace with Scotland, yet my village has been burned by these barbaric, thieving Scots, my sheep stolen, my people carried off, and my bride taken. I seek justice pure and simple, my lord."

Edward of York didn't know whether to laugh or have this obviously mad northern baron removed from his presence. The thought of this old man marrying his daughter-in-law was repellent, and he suspected the dispensation had been obtained by fraudulent means. He also suspected the girl hadn't been confused at all. She had wisely fled her lecherous father-in-law, and had the good fortune to marry some rough border lord. Still, the north was always troublesome, and until he knew just how important this baron was he would tread carefully. "Return home, my lord," he told Sir Udolf. "I will set my people to look into this matter. If justice is due you, you will receive it."

"Thank you, my lord!" Sir Udolf said, bowing several times. "Thank you!" He was then ushered from the king's presence by the same page who had escorted him there.

The lord of Wulfborn Hall arrived home by the end of June. Most of his fields were overgrown because he had no one to work them anymore. But he saw two small fields planted and cared for by the few servants he had left. He was pleased to find Father Peter awaiting him, and told him King Edward had promised him justice.

"It is just a matter of time, Priest, before Alix is home, and we shall begin our life together," Sir Udolf said, smiling smugly.

The priest nodded, but he wondered what had actually taken place. Had his master really seen the king, or had he just spoken to some secretary or other flunky? And as the next few weeks passed he continued to wonder, for it appeared that nothing had changed. Sir Udolf spent his days planning for the return of Alix Givet, something the priest accepted was unlikely to happen. Each time he would broach the possibility of his master taking another woman to wife the baron would wave him away.

Finally Father Peter pointed out to Sir Udolf that he could hardly maintain a wife with his lands in the condition they now were, and his village still basically a ruin. "You must find new villagers, my lord, and there are those who barely subsist living all around us in the hills. Send me out with your steward to find the best of these people and bring them to Wulfborn so they may rebuild the village and till your fields. If we go now, by winter the cottages will be livable again, and your fields prepared for planting next spring. You cannot bring a wife to Wulfborn as it now is, my lord."

And to his relief Sir Udolf agreed, saying, "It will take time for King Edward to negotiate with Queen Marie for the return of my bride. And of course York must make St. Andrew's understand it has precedence. Aye! Everything must be perfect for Alix's return, Father Peter. I have been negligent. I will not send my steward with you. I will go myself. I have a good sense of honest men and strong backs."

The priest was pleased to see his master finally interested in something other than attempting to regain a woman who was wed to another and obviously content. His master's mood would improve immeasurably once he saw his estates reviving. And then Father Peter was certain he could be reasoned with to take another woman for his wife. It was unlikely that King Edward had done anything in that direction no matter what Sir Udolf thought. The king had nothing to gain by aiding an unimportant northern baron who could offer him nothing in return. If there was one thing the priest understood it was power. Sir Udolf had been naive to think the king would help, but he was not quite ready to face that fact. Hard work would alter Sir Udolf's attitude and make him more reasonable, the priest was certain.

But the hard work to restore Wulfborn to itself did not change Sir Udolf's position. If anything, it made him more determined to regain Alix for his wife. Everything he did over the next few months was for her. He sought out hard workers and their families, choosing his new folk with an eye to pleasing her. The cottages were rebuilt as the priest had predicted before the first snows fell. Looking down upon them from his own house one early evening, lights again in the windows, smoke rising from the chimneys, the master of Wulfborn remarked that Alix would be approving.

"She is a woman who likes order about her," he said with a smile.

"You need stock," Father Peter said, attempting to distract his lord once again.

"I will purchase them in the spring," Sir Udolf replied. "No need to get them now, for I should have to purchase grain to feed them as we grew little this year. What grain we have grown is for our people. The new miller is an excellent man. Did you know, Good Priest, that some of these folk we gathered in had grandparents who were ours? But there wasn't enough land for all the children bom then, and some had to strike out on their own. Now, because of our tragedy, they are returned home again. God works in mysterious ways, Father Peter."

"Have you heard from King Edward?" the priest ventured slyly.

"Nay, I have not. Were it not so late in the year I should send you to Yorkminster to learn what is happening. But there is time for that in the spring," Sir Udolf decided. "The king will not fail me, Father Peter."

But Edward of York had forgotten entirely about the obscure Northumbrian baron who had pleaded for justice a year ago. The winter had passed, and he was in love. Not with a foreign princess, however, but with the widowed Lady Elizabeth Grey, nee Woodville, who was not at all a suitable match for a king of England. Her father had been an unimportant knight. Her mother, however, had been Jacquette of Luxembourg, the widow of Henry IV's son, John, Duke of Bedford. Still, the connection was not fine enough to suit the king's mother, Cecily Neville, known as Proud Ciss. The king's interests nonetheless were engaged elsewhere now. Yet he had sent an inquiry to York in the matter shortly after he had spoken to Sir Udolf.

Unfortunately the inquiry from the king regarding the situation had ended up in the hands of the same secretary who had taken the bribes needed to gain Sir Udolf his dispensation. This priest had tossed the royal parchment in his hearth and then sent a note to the king declaring the matter had been properly settled. He knew it was very unlikely to be pursued further, and he would see it wasn't. The secretary then sent off a dispatch to Sir Udolf assuring him his dispensation was valid and that St. Andrew's was now ready to acknowledge it. Then the priest put the problem from his mind. And Sir Udolf, receiving the assurances from Yorkminster as spring arrived, rejoiced.

"You see!" he crowed to Father Peter. "The king has indeed given me my justice. As soon as the fields are planted, we shall travel into Scotland to this Dunglais and fetch my bride home. I will make no attempt to steal her this time. I shall go openly."

Father Peter was surprised King Edward had actually aided Sir Udolf. He had not believed his master, who had nothing to offer in return, would have mattered to a king. But there was the parchment from York with the archbishop's seal upon it. Still, he made a final attempt to change Sir Udolf's mind. "My lord, the lady in question has been gone from you for several years now. I do not believe she will leave her man and her family because of a piece of parchment. I do not believe the lord of Dunglais will allow you to take his wife. Wulfborn is beginning to look as of old. Your fields are tilled and being planted. There are sheep and lambs in your meadow. Either Sir David's sister or the widow Alyce Graham would suit you, my lord. Choose one of them for a wife. Do not persist in this folly."

"You call a church document folly, Priest?" Sir Udolf said icily.

"Nay, my lord, I do not. What I tell you is that that document will not matter to the Laird of Dunglais or his wife. They will not be parted."

"Do not call her his wife. She is not his wife! She belongs to me!"

The priest threw up his hands in defeat. This would end badly, but he had done his very best to turn the lord of Wulfborn away from his madness. He could do nothing more but pray for Sir Udolf. Alix Givet was not going to come back, and nothing Holy Mother Church said or did was going to change that. But he would travel with his master and be there for him when he was finally forced to face the truth of the matter.

They departed Wulfborn several days later, taking with them six men-at-arms whom Sir Udolf had trained from among his new villagers. Six were enough for protection, but not enough to appear hostile. Reaching Dunglais two days later, they found the small drawbridge that stretched across its moat raised. Father Peter noted that the moat was kept filled by a natural stream that traversed the hill upon which the stone keep known at Dunglais stood.

"Identify yourselves!" the guard on watch called down to the party before the keep's gates.

"Sir Udolf Watteson, and Father Peter to see the laird," the lord of Wulfborn called up to the man-at-arms.

"You'll have to wait" was the reply, and the guard turned away to speak briefly with another man on the walls. Then he climbed down the stone steps from the wall and into the courtyard. Entering the keep proper, he hurried to the great hall, where the laird was sitting with his wife and their children. "There's a Sir Udolf Watteson and his priest at the gates, my lord, requesting entry. English by the sound of him."

Alix grew pale and looked wordlessly at her husband.

"I told you I should have killed him," Malcolm Scott said. "Refuse him entry, and tell him if he returns to Dunglais again I will slay him."

"No! Wait!" Alix called out to the man-at-arms. Then she said to her husband, "If you refuse him entry, I shall never be able to go outside the keep again as long as he is alive. He'll send men to take me again. Let him in, I beg you. Let him see Fiona and little James. Let me tell him I am again with child to be bom at year's end. Together we can convince him, we must convince him, that his desire for me needs to be put to rest. The priest comes with him, and while old-fashioned in his thought, Father Peter is a reasonable man, Colm. And send for Father Donald to join us."

"I want the children gone from the hall," the laird said.

"Nay, let them remain. Sir Udolf needs to understand this isn't just about a man and a woman. This is about a family," Alix said.

"I don't want them frightened, and this will eventually become unpleasant," the laird said.

"If we see it degenerating, we will send them away," Alix promised.

"Go and tell Sir Udolf he and his priest may enter. His escort will remain outside. He has my word no harm will come to either of them while they are in my house," Malcolm Scott said.

With a brief nod the man-at-arms hurried off to deliver the message. Iver, who had heard everything, went to seek out Father Donald. By the time Sir Udolf and Father Peter had reached the hall of Dunglais, Father Donald was there as well. The Englishman's eyes went immediately to Alix. He smiled. She did not smile back.

"My dear wife, I am happy to see you looking so well," Sir Udolf said.

"I am not your wife," Alix responded.

"Why are you here?" Malcolm Scott demanded.

"A year ago I went to King Edward and asked him for justice. He interceded for me at York, and York interceded with St. Andrew's. This marriage union you claim with my wife is illegal. Holy Mother Church orders you to return Alix Givet to me immediately. I have come to you openly and honestly, my lord. I travel with no great army of men, but only with a small party to guard me while I journey." He reached into the leather packet he carried and withdrew several sheets of parchment. "Here, my lord, are the documents from York, including a recent letter upholding my claim upon Alix Givet. If you can read, read them. If you cannot read them, have your priest do so."

To his credit Malcolm Scott did not leap up and throttle the Englishman, although he was tempted to do so. He was a man of honor, and he had given his word that Sir Udolf would not be harmed in his house. But he did wave away the parchments. Instead he said, "My lord, do you see this girl who sits by Alix's side? It is my daughter from a previous union. The only mother she had ever known is Alix. Do you see the bairn in Alix's lap? That is our son, James Alexander, named for the late king, who was my friend, and for Alix's father. And there is another bairn in Alix's belly who will be born at year's end. Now do you really believe, my lord, that anything written upon those parchments will induce me to give my wife, the woman I love and prize, to you?"

"The church and the law are on my side," Sir Udolf said stiffly.

"To hell with both the church and the law!" the Laird of Dunglais said vehemently. "Whatever your documents may declare, Sir Udolf, Alix is my wife."

"My lord," Father Peter said quietly, "you cannot take a mother from her children."

"Priest! You overstep your authority," Sir Udolf snarled.

Suddenly Fiona jumped to her feet. "You will not take my mam from me again," she cried, launching herself at Sir Udolf to attack him with her small fists. "You will not! You will not.'"

The laird quickly rose and pulled his daughter from the startled Englishman.

The little girl yanked away from her father and tried to squeeze herself into Alix's lap with her brother, who was now beginning to whimper nervously.

"Fenella, take the bairns from the hall," Alix called out. She brushed a lock of black hair from Fiona's small face. "I am not going anywhere with this man, Fi. I told you when I returned I would not leave you again. Now go with Fenella and play with James so he will not be frightened." She kissed the girl's tear-stained cheek.

"Aye, Mam," Fiona said with a sniff, reluctantly taking her baby brother's hand and helping him as he toddled from the hall. But before she left she gave Sir Udolf a fierce look that actually made him quail.

"The brat has the evil eye," the Englishman declared, crossing himself piously.

"Let me see these documents you carry," Father Donald said, quietly reaching out to receive them from his fellow cleric. Carefully he perused them, and then he said, "This letter purported to come from the bishop of St. Andrew's does not. I know the handwriting of both of His Grace's two secretaries and the four undersecretaries. The hand that composed this letter does not belong to any in St. Andrew's precincts. Nor is the seal of the bishop attached, which it would have to be to be authentic. From where did this letter come?"

"It came from York, along with a document from the archbishop there declaring the dispensation valid and true," Father Peter replied hesitantly.

"Do you believe the dispensation valid?" the Scots priest asked the English one.

"I am suspicious, for coin was exchanged several times," Father Peter answered truthfully, "but I cannot be certain. The donations were said to be for the archbishop's charitable works. I am no fool, and I know they could have as easily gone into someone's pocket. But is not that how the business of the church is conducted? On a large scale for men of importance, and a smaller scale for those of lesser importance like my master?"

"Of course the dispensation is valid!" Sir Udolf shouted. "The archbishop's seal is on it! It is true, and Alix Givet is mine by right! Are you suggesting bribes were exchanged? Are you offending my honor? For I am a man of honor!"

"If you call my wife yours one more time, my lord," the laird said through gritted teeth, "I will throw you out of my house, for I have given my word not to harm you while you are in it. But once you have crossed my drawbridge my promise no longer holds."

"The dispensation from York is valid," Sir Udolf repeated stiffly.

"But the letter from St. Andrew's is not," the laird replied, "and so we are at an impasse. English law does not hold in Scotland, and Alix is my wife under Scots law."

"And she is mine under English law," the lord of Wulfborn said stubbornly.

"My lord," Father Donald addressed their visitor, "is not possession nine-tenths of the law? And does not the fact my lady is the mother of my lord's bairns overrule your right? Ask the lady what it is she desires in this matter."

"What she wants does not matter," Sir Udolf said. "The law is the law."

"Since we speak of English law and Scots law then this matter must be settled in the courts, but of course then the question arises whose court? England's or Scotland's? And a civil court or an ecclesiastical court?" Father Donald said. "Would it not be simpler to relinquish your claim on the lady? I am certain my lord would pay you an indemnity for any damages you feel you have suffered in this matter."

Alix spoke suddenly. "I do not love you, Udolf. The thought of being your wife is repellent to me. You were the father of my first husband. I think of you as a father. I could never consider you a lover. Indeed, the very idea is repugnant. But I do love Malcolm Scott and our children. Dunglais is my home and I will not leave it."

He looked her, and as if he had heard nothing she had said to him, told her, "We have repaired the damage the Scots inflicted upon Wulfborn, my dear. The village is rebuilt and repopulated once again. There are sheep in the meadow, and the crop promises to be good by harvestide. When you come home, you will see."

Alix stood up, smoothing her pale blue skirts. "I shall go to the bairns," she said. "With your permission, my lord, I shall not return to the hall until this man is gone."

He nodded. "Go, lambkin." Then he spoke to his guest. "It is several hours until dark. I will not shelter you in my house this night, Sir Udolf. Get you gone from Dunglais, and never return. If you do, I will, despite my wife's gentle heart, kill you."

"I want what is mine!" the Englishman shouted.

The laird nodded to Iver, who came with several stout serving men and took the lord of Wulfborn from the hall and out into the courtyard, where they set him upon his horse and led it across the drawbridge to rejoin his men-at-arms. Father Peter followed but not before he and Father Donald managed to speak privately.

"I will send to you when I know what he means to do," Father Peter said. "I am not being disloyal, but for months I have attempted to dissuade him from this path. There are at least two marriage prospects for him to choose from in his vicinity."

"Thank you," Father Donald said. "I have known Colm Scott since he was a boy. He will not give over. He loves his wife, and his heart is held captive by her. Godspeed to you, Peter."

"And God bless you, Donald" came the reply as the English priest mounted his horse and set off after his master. When he had caught up with Sir Udolf he asked him, "And now, my lord, will we return home to Wulfborn?"

"Nay, we are going to find Queen Margaret" came the surprising answer. "Did she not give me her permission to wed Alix if I gained the dispensation? Surely she will have some influence upon my wife. And I will gain her aid in petitioning the bishop of St. Andrew's. We will see if the letter I hold is false or nay."

"My lord," the priest said desperately, "let us go home, I beg you. The matter is settled for all but you. Why would you try to take her away from Dunglais?"

"Because she is mine," Sir Udolf said as if the priest were simple-minded and could not comprehend. "She is mine, Priest, and I will have what is mine."

But Margaret of Anjou had left Scotland with her son and returned home to France in the hopes of gaining aid from her family and from the French king so her husband might be restored to his throne. Henry of Lancaster remained in Scotland, moving from sanctuary to sanctuary within the borders. Some days his mind was clear, and some days it was not. While disappointed, Sir Udolf was not discouraged. He rode on to St. Andrew's to gain an audience with Bishop Kennedy. The bishop, however, was not at St. Andrew's. He was with the young king. But Father Peter was able to learn from one of the bishop's undersecretaries that the letter that was supposed to have come from St. Andrew's had not. None of the bishop's people recognized it, or the hand that wrote it. And as for the archbishop of York's dispensation, it would not be upheld by the bishop of St. Andrew's.

"We must go home, my lord," Father Peter said.

And Sir Udolf nodded. "But this matter is not over," he told his priest.

The priest said nothing. A reasonable man would have admitted his defeat, but Sir Udolf had never been a man to give up easily. Still Sir Udolf had met with failure at every turn. It is obvious, the priest thought, that God is answering my prayers. Perhaps if I pray harder my lord will give over and pick a new wife from among the women of our district. Encouraged, Father Peter turned his face south towards Wulfborn Hall.