The Captive Heart

Chapter Two

It would be a few days before the contracts were signed. To her credit, the queen did attempt to comfort her goddaughter. "I would not do this but that your father is ill and can travel no farther," Margaret of Anjou said to Alix. "And it is easier for us to find shelter with just one body servant each. The day after your wedding we will depart here. Only the isolation of this refuge has kept us safe, but we cannot take the chance of remaining for much longer. Sooner than later the Yorkists will scour the countryside most thoroughly, and we will be found."

"I understand," Alix said dully.

"He is an attractive young man," the queen noted.

"He wants to marry his mistress," Alix replied.

"Pah!" the queen exclaimed. "All young men want to wed their mistresses, but mistresses are not for marrying. Be dutiful to your husband, and he will eventually outgrow his mistress. This is a good match for you, ma chérie. The family is respectable, and the baron likes you. If your husband misbehaves, go to him, for Sir Udolf is the head of the family, and I suspect he will live to be a very old man. But most important, your papa has a safe refuge now. I could not desert him for the sake of your dear mama, who was always so good to me. Think of her, Alix. When my grandmother, and father decided she was to marry your father, she did what she was told. Can you do any less?"

"No, Highness," Alix replied. Think of your mother, the queen said. Alix was thinking of her. A day did not go by that she did not remember Blanche Givet. Her mother had been so beautiful. Many said that Alix resembled her, but while their coloring was the same, the daughter thought her mother far more lovely. Blanche was French to her fingertips. Elegant and quick. Charming and diplomatic with the most difficult of the queen's high-born English companions. Everyone had loved Blanche Givet. But especially her husband and her daughter.

What would her mother say about this match that Margaret of Anjou had made for Alix? Would she have made it had Blanche been alive? Alix wanted to believe that if Blanche had lived, she and her husband would have returned with their only child to Anjou to live out their lives. But no. Blanche would have never deserted Margaret of Anjou. Especially not under these circumstances. Alix sighed. But if her mother had lived, she was certain this marriage would have never been proposed.

Her mother's death had come as a complete shock to everyone who knew her. It was sudden, and totally unexpected. It was Alexander Givet whose health had begun to fail. But Blanche, up until the moment of her death, had appeared healthy and vibrant. And yet she had gone to her bed that fatal night and never awakened again. Oh, she had complained of being tired that last day, but was that so unusual for a queen's lady who was always kept running?

Alix felt the tears coming, and she brushed them away impatiently. From the moment they had told her that her mother had died she had attempted to remember the last words Blanche had said to her, but she never could. Her father had tried to comfort her, telling her the conversation was obviously not that important that she would have remembered. But shouldn't you remember the last words your mother said to you? Still, if you didn't know they were to be her last words…

Alix sighed sadly.

But she did remember standing by her mother's grave and promising her that she would take care of her father. Alix knew that would have been the one thing Blanche would have asked of her had she been able to ask it. So now here they were in the wilds of Northumbria, and she was about to marry a man who didn't want her so that her father could have a home, a place to die. The tears flowed silently, and she bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing. I have kept my promise to you, Mama, she said silently.

She considered Hayle Watteson. There was something not quite right about him that she could not quite put her finger upon. He was very childish. A spoiled child who must have his own way. He had made his dislike of her quite clear. He didn't want her, but he would accept her as his wife to please his parent. He would sire children on her to please his father. She would be nothing more to him than a broodmare would be.

The tears came faster. It wasn't that she was feeling sorry for herself, but it seemed so unfair. Her mother had loved her father. Margaret of Anjou had come to love her royal husband. But her father had been happy to have her mother for a wife. And Henry Plantagenet had, for all his shyness, been welcoming of his bride. And while she knew that many men had mistresses, neither the king nor her father had ever taken another woman to their bed. And now she was facing marriage to a man who not only had a mistress, but loved her, intended to keep her, and had nothing but hostility for the girl he was to marry. Every instinct she possessed told her to run, but Alix would not listen. Her father needed a home, and Wulfborn Hall, despite its surly heir, was a good place. She would marry Hayle Watteson, and if he didn't love her, their children would. She would honor the promise she gave at her mother's graveside.

Alexander Givet was feeling stronger having been able to rest these past few days. "You do not have to wed this man if you do not wish to," he told his daughter. "I am better for resting. I will take you back to Anjou, mignon."

"Nay, Papa," Alix told him. "You are better for a warm hall, a warm bed, and regular hot food. On the road we would have none of these things. The queen goes to Scotland. She has no means to reach the coast, and neither do we. And if we did manage to get there, what guarantee do we have that we could find a ship to take us to France? And if we found a ship, and reached France, how would we get to Anjou? The journey is too long and too difficult for a sick man. You would not live to get there, and then I should be left alone."

"I do not like this man you are to wed," the physician admitted.

"I do not like him either," Alix agreed. "But his father is a good man, and it is he who is the lord here. Not Hayle. Sir Udolf likes us both, Papa. All the Wattesons want of me is children. I will give them what they want. Sir Udolf will dote on his grandchildren and honor me as their mother. I have agreed not to interfere with Hayle and his mistress as long as I am treated with respect."

Alexander Givet shook his head. "That my daughter should have to barter herself to protect us pains me. I feel so helpless, mignon. Forgive me!"

"There is nothing to forgive, Papa," Alix assured him. "I am content with this." She lied with a smile, and she kissed his cheek.

He knew she lied, but what other choice did they have? Alexander Givet silently cursed his body's weaknesses that had put his beloved daughter in this situation. But while his pride had made him give up half of his small hoard of coins to provide Alix with a very respectable dower portion, he had kept back an equal amount, which he would see Alix had in her possession before he died. She would be a woman of means if it ever became necessary for her to leave Wulfborn.

When they had fled their last royal sanctuary those many weeks back Alix had been able to take very little. Her camiseas were either lawn or silk. They took up little space, and so she had packed half a dozen of them as well as two batiste shertes she kept for night garments. But she had only three gowns: two jersey-one green, the other nut brown-and a violet silk. She had a pair of boots for outdoors and a pair of sollerets for indoors; a wool cape, the hood lined in rabbit fur; and two lawn veils. Her father had given her the jewelry that had belonged to her mother: a strand of creamy pearls; two gold chains, one with a jeweled cross; and five gold rings, each with a gem stone. One had a large pink pearl, another a garnet, another a small sapphire, the fourth an amethyst. The last was of red Irish gold, with a green tourmaline. She kept her jewelry in a small pale blue silk bag with a drawstring.

On her wedding day, Alix decided she would wear her best gown, the violet silk. At her request, an oak tub was brought up from the kitchens, and she bathed in it, taking the time and care to wash her hair. A serving woman of undetermined age who said her name was Bab helped her.

"The old lord said I am to serve you, for you will be mistress here," Bab informed Alix. "You are pretty, but not as pretty as Maida."

Alix was startled by the reference to Hayle's mistress. "Do not speak to me of that wench," she told Bab. "It matters not to me if she is pretty."

"You do not care that your husband futters her, and will continue to do so?" Bab asked boldly as she helped Alix into her bath.

"No," Alix said. "I do not." She began to wash herself.

"Yet you bathe yourself so you may please him. You'll never please him, mistress. It is Maida he wants."

"I bathe to please myself, Bab, and Maida is his for eternity. She matters not to me. I will be Hayle's wife, the mother of his legitimate heirs. Now, I have asked you not to speak of this wench. Cease, or I will be forced to beat you."

Bab sent Alix a surprised look, but she stopped speaking, helping her new mistress to dress when Alix had come from the tub and dried herself off. Then, unable to help herself she said as she slipped the camise over Alix's head, "Maida has more meat on her bones than you do." Then she cried out as the girl's hand made sharp contact with her fat cheek. "Oww!" Her own hand reached up to soothe the stinging flesh.

"Are you slow-witted that you did not understand me, Bab? You are not to speak of my husband's wench to me." Alix glared hard at the woman. "I will be lady in this hall very shortly. The household is mine to command. If you wish to remain in my personal service, you will obey me when I instruct you. Do you think because I am young I can be intimidated by you or your chatter about that wench? I was trained in my duties by a queen, Bab. And I have learned well."

"Indeed you have, ma chérie," Margaret of Anjou said as she entered the chamber that was now Alix's. She gave the serving woman a scornful glance in passing. "I am so sorry I have nothing of value to give you on this day. Were things as they once were, I should have gifted you with a gilt salt sellar, or a dozen silver spoons. Your husband would have been given hunting rights in the royal forests. But alas, things are not as they once were, so I have brought you this." The queen then clasped a gold girdle studded with small gemstones about Alix's hips. "There! Now that gown looks perfect." Taking the girl by her shoulders, the queen kissed her on both of her cheeks. "I must speak to you now, as your mother is not here for you." She turned. "Get out!" she said to Bab. "You will be called when you are needed."

The serving woman scurried out, realizing as she went that the bride, whom all had thought soft and weak, was not. She hurried to tell the other servants and to see that her niece Maida knew that the new lady would not attempt to usurp Maida's place in Hayle Watteson's heart. But she wondered what the lady would think when she learned that Maida was with child.

Margaret of Anjou had waited until the servant was gone. "I must explain the wedding night to you," she said.

A small smile touched Alix's lips. "Papa has explained it all to me," she replied.

The queen looked shocked. Then she laughed. "Of course," she said. "He would not want you totally unprepared, and so Alexander would carefully tell you all the physical elements involved. However, his is the masculine viewpoint. I will give you the feminine side of the equation. You can experience passion even when you feel no love for your partner. Love, however, turns passion into a great wonder, Alix. I know that right now you and your husband are strangers. I am aware he has a mistress. But it is my belief that your sweetness and loyalty will overcome his baser nature eventually. Watch what will happen when you give him his first son. He will love you then. Now, be aware that some men are rough in their loving. Still, you need not be afraid. Just let him have his way, and be gentle in return with him."

"Thank you, Highness," Alix replied to the queen's speech. "I am grateful for your words and your wisdom." She wasn't going to argue with the queen, or tell her that Hayle Watteson would never love her. The queen had done what she believed was her best by her ailing physician and her goddaughter. Let her go off to whatever fate awaited her believing all was right.

"I am pleased that this solution presented itself for you and your father. I will leave tomorrow knowing that my dearest Blanche's husband and daughter are safe. Now, ma petite, I believe they are waiting for us in the hall. Shall we go?"

Alix drew in a deep breath and asked, "How do I look?"

The queen smiled tenderly. "Beautiful, and far too good for this baron's son, but hélas! We must be grateful to God and his Blessed Mother that they have been given to us, ma petite." She reached out to settle the gold girdle on Alix's hips, and touched the girl's long wavy hair that had been unbound to signify her virginity. "Allez! "

Together they descended into the hall where Sir Udolf, Alexander Givet, and the bridegroom awaited them with the priest. The two fathers were garbed in long dark furred robes. The bridegroom, however, wore a dark green tunic that came to his knees, and black breeches beneath. The king was present, silent in a dark heavily furred velvet robe that touched the stone floor of the house. The young prince was by his side. He gave Alix a mischievous wink that made her smile.

The priest, Sir Udolf, Alexander Givet, and the bridegroom all stood at the high board upon the dais. Alix came slowly to join them.

"The contracts for the marriage between Hayle John Watteson and Alix Margot Givet have been drawn up and approved by Holy Mother Church as well as Sir Udolf Watteson and Alexander Givet, the parents of the parties involved. It but remains for the bridal couple to sign the agreement," the priest said, and he held out the quill to the bridegroom.

Hayle Watteson took it, placing a careless X where the priest pointed. Then he returned the quill to the cleric, who handed it to Alix.

Taking it, she carefully wrote out her name, Alix Margot Givet. It was neat and quite legible. She handed the quill back to the surprised priest.

Both fathers and the queen stepped forward to sign as witnesses, adding their names on the parchment document. When they had all finished, the priest sanded the signatures. "It but remains for us to adjourn to the church now so this couple may be properly blessed, and their union may be formally sealed." He rolled the parchments up, binding them with a small strip of leather. Leaving them upon the high board, he led the bridal party from the hall.

They left the house, which was at one end of Sir Udolf's village of Wulfboro, and walked to its other end, where the small church was situated. The village street was lined with silent villagers who stood watching them as they passed. Inside the empty church, Alix and her husband knelt before the altar. The priest blessed them, and then he celebrated a short Mass. When the Mass had been concluded, he pronounced them husband and wife. They departed the church and returned to the house. The street was empty now.

"They hate you for taking Maida's place as my wife," Hayle told her cruelly. "She is with child. It was her wedding gift to me. Maida will bear my first son."

Alix felt as if her spirit was being crushed by his words. "Could you not at least be civil to me on our wedding day, my lord? It is not my fault that your lover is of low birth. You know I should not have married you at all were it not for my father."

"You are no better than a whore," he told her. "Maida loves me. She asks nothing of me in return but my love, and I gladly give it to her. But you have whored for your place here. You had best prove quickly fruitful so that my sacrifice not be in vain."

"Your sacrifice? What of mine?" Alix demanded of him.

"Whore!" he said coldly.

Sir Udolf had arranged a feast for the entire village, and his hall was filled when they returned. The beer was already flowing freely. Alix sat at the high board numb with her misery. She watched as her husband danced with the villagers, quickly realizing that the lovely dark-haired girl whose side he never left was his mistress, Maida. The baron was obviously shamed by his son's behavior, but Alexander Givet was furious.

"Have you no control over your offspring that you would allow him to embarrass my daughter?" he demanded of the baron. "And on their wedding day too."

"What can I do?" the baron said helplessly, and he turned to Alix. "Forgive him, my daughter. He is young, and he is a fool to boot. It will do no good to lock him up, for his resentment towards you would be even worse. Give me a grandchild, and I will, protect you as long as I live."

"I should never have allowed my daughter to marry your son," Alexander Givet said furiously. "God forgive me! God forgive me!"

"It's all right, Papa," Alix tried to reassure him. "Hayle is behaving like a child because he did not get his own way. But I am his wife, and I shall be the mother of his heir. Then all will be well. I don't want you to worry." Privately, however, Alix was not pleased with her new husband's behavior. He did behave like a child. A ten-year-old. What was the matter with him, anyway? He had agreed he would not shame her publicly, but then she recalled he hadn't agreed. She had asked it of him, but he had never agreed. Was she to be subjected to this sort of behavior forever because he couldn't have his own way? She sighed softly, letting her eyes go to where he danced with his mistress. His whole face was different than the one he usually presented. It was soft and kind. Alix knew, looking at her husband, that he would never present such a face to her.

"Alix is wiser than you, Alexander," the queen murmured. "Be still, mon ami."

When the evening came, the villagers departed and Hayle with them. Sir Udolf took Alix aside, sitting with her by the blazing hearth. "Do you remember that Hayle spoke of certain conditions for agreeing to your marriage, Alix?"

She nodded. "I do, but you have never told them to me."

"I must tell you now." He looked unhappy. "My son feels coupling with you is a betrayal of his mistress. Therefore, while he knows he must lay with you if he is to have a legitimate heir, he does not wish to see you while he does his duty by you and by the family. You will be prepared for bed and then left in a totally darkened chamber. And whenever he comes to your bed, the room must be dark. The shutters will be closed and the draperies drawn tightly. I am sorry, but those are his conditions, and I was forced to agree with them else he would not have made this marriage."

Alix shook her head. "His mistress is with child," she said. "Did you know that, my lord? He told me as we returned from the church."

"Forgive me, my child!" the baron begged her. "In time I am certain he will relent and you will warm his heart."

"He will never relent," Alix said despairingly, "but I will do my duty, my lord. You need have no fear of that." No. For her father's sake she would let Hayle Watteson have her virginity, and she would bear him children. And with Sir Udolf's aid, she would raise her sons to be true gentlemen like her father, like the poor king. She would teach them kindness, respect, and duty. Once she had her children about her, she would be safe even after her father and Sir Udolf were gone.

"Do not go to his bed!" her father said desperately. "I should rather die in the cold than have you suffer that man a moment. Call the priest and have this union annulled." And then Alexander Givet began to gasp with his distress. He coughed so hard that his whole body was convulsed, and he collapsed back in his chair.

"Papa!" Alix was immediately by her parent's side. The physician held a napkin to his mouth, and she saw the flecks of blood staining the linen. "It's all right, Papa. I am content with this marriage. Do not distress yourself any more. I need you and Sir Udolf here with me. You must not fret yourself." She put the wine cup to his lips now that his coughing had subsided.

Alexander Givet sipped slowly. He was pale, and he felt so weak that he could hardly move himself even to sit up. "I can't let you do this, mignon," he murmured softly.

"It is done," Alix told her parent. She signaled to a young serving man, who came immediately to her side. "Take my father to his bedspace, and see he is made comfortable for the night. Then sit with him until he sleeps."

"Yes, mistress," the young servant said. He had a pleasant face, and did not seem hostile to her as so many of the servants did.

"What is your name?" Alix asked him.

"Wat, mistress" came the reply.

"I will speak to the steward, Wat, for I should like you to look after my father, to be his body servant," Alix said.

"Thank you, mistress," Wat answered her. Then he helped Alexander Givet from his chair. "Lean on me, sir. I am strong."

"When you are settled, Papa, I will come and bid you good night," Alix told her father. Then she turned to Sir Udolf. "He cannot continue to sleep in the hall," she said. "He must have his own chamber. Since your son must now share my bed, I shall take his room for my father. If Hayle needs another place, let him make it somewhere else."

"Should you not go to your chamber now to await your husband?" Sir Udolf ventured quietly.

"I will go nowhere until I see my father properly settled for this night. Besides, your son is with his mistress. He is in no hurry to bed me."

The baron looked unhappy, but he said nothing, for he knew that Alix was right. She sat at his left hand with a stony face looking out over the hall, which was now empty. The queen quietly departed, taking her son with her. The king's body servant had come for him during the dancing and taken his master away. Finally Wat came to tell Alix that her father was settled within his bedspace next to the large hearth.

Alix went to him and kissed her parent's brow. "Tomorrow I will prepare a chamber for you, Papa. You will no longer have to sleep in the hall."

"There is still time," he said softly to her.

Alix shook her head. "Remember what Mama always said? You must make the best of a bad situation no matter how you may feel. While I may scorn Hayle Watteson in my heart and mind, I will always treat him respectfully in public. From his behavior today, I suspect I will see him but infrequently."

Her father reached out, and in his hand there was a small pouch. "If you are determined to go through with this travesty, mignon, then you will need extra strength of both body and mind for your ordeal. Put a pinch from the contents of this bag into a cup of wine tonight and drink it. Then take a pinch of it in wine or cider each morning. I will give you more when you need it." He put the pouch in her hand, grasping her wrist and saying, "Promise me you will take it, Alix. Promise me!"

"If you believe it will help me, Papa, then yes, I will take it tonight, and each morning as you have prescribed." She bent and kissed his cheek. "Bon soir, Papa."

"Bon soir, mignon," Alexander Givet replied. "God keep you safe this night."

Alix left him, and without even a word to Sir Udolf, departed the hall, going upstairs to the chamber she was to share with her husband. Bab was waiting for her. "Fetch me a small goblet of wine," Alix told the serving woman.

Bab did as she was bid, setting the goblet on the table next to the bed. Then she helped Alix disrobe. "He'll want you naked," Bab informed Alix, who now stood in her chemise washing her face and hands.

"Then I will be naked," Alix responded. She felt numb, and she was cold. Perhaps the wine would help to warm her. "Be careful with my gown," she warned Bab. "It is my one good one." And while the servant folded the violet silk with meticulous care, Alix took a pinch from the contents of the little pouch, put it in her wine, and drank it down. She must remember to ask her father what it was. She didn't want Bab to see the pouch, and so she tucked it discreetly beneath the bed's mattress until she was alone and could find another hiding spot. "Has my husband returned yet?" she asked Bab, knowing the serving woman would be aware of Hayle's whereabouts.

"Not yet," Bab replied sourly. "Get into bed and sleep. He'll awaken you when he comes. I hope for your sake there is blood on the sheet come morning. He won't like it if you aren't a virgin."

Alix climbed into the bed. "Good night, Bab" was all she answered. Then she watched as the servant snuffed all the candles but the one she carried, and departed the chamber. The room was cold, Alix noted, but then, of course, since Hayle would want total darkness there was no fire to keep her warm. The bed smelled fresh with lavender. The pillows were plump behind her. She drew up the coverlet and closed her eyes, but she could not sleep. As she lay there alone and in the dark Alix considered what was to come. She knew what to expect. Her husband would stuff his manhood into her female sheath and expel his seed. With good luck he would get her with child quickly, and she would be quickly quit of him. He would futter her to get the son to please his father. There was nothing more to it. She wished he would come and get it over with, for she was tired and wanted to sleep. Would he remain with her? Would he do it more than once? At court she had overheard two women in the queen's apartment speaking of one of their husbands. He had fucked her, the first told the second, three times in a night, and the two women had giggled like girls. How many times did it take a man to get a woman with child? Alix wondered. That was not a part of her knowledge.

Finally the door to the chamber opened, and she saw him in the light from the hallway torch, hesitating a moment before coming in. "Do not speak," he told her as he shut the door behind him.

Alix remained silent, as bidden. The bed sagged as he sat upon its edge. She heard his boots hit the floor as he removed them.

He pulled back the coverlet, saying as he did so, "Spread your legs open wide, whore," and when she had, he climbed atop her. "Now put your arms above your head," he further instructed her. "You will make no move to impede my actions." Reaching out, he squeezed one of her breasts, pinching the nipple hard. "At least your skin is soft," he noted as he ran his hands over her body, "and you smell of flowers."

Alix felt him adjusting his position. She felt his bare buttocks against her thighs as he leaned forward, his fingers and hand seeking. And then she felt it as he found the opening to her woman's sheath. As he leaned forward, she realized he was wearing his tunic robe and had just hiked it up so his male parts would be free. Alix felt she should be doing something, but she didn't know what. He thrust into her, and it hurt. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he kept pushing himself into her. But then he thrust hard, and Alix could not prevent the scream that tore from her throat as a sharp pain engulfed her. She began to weep.

"You didn't lie to me, whore. You were a virgin," he said as he began to piston her in earnest, grunting with each stroke of his cock until she felt him stiffen above her and groan with the sound of pleasure attained. Then, climbing off of her, he said, "I'll be back in the early morning to fuck you again. And I'll keep fucking you each day until you ripen with my child. Then we can be quit of each other." He sat on the edge of the bed once more, pulling on his boots, and then left her.

Alix began to cry in earnest. He had not kissed her, or been kind at all. He had behaved like a stallion brought to stud. Surely this was not the way all men and women behaved with one another? She remembered her mother's face once when she had come from the bedchamber that she shared with her father. It had been soft and dreamy. Alix remembered saying to her mother that she looked particularly beautiful at that moment and Blanche responding that when a woman was well loved she glowed.

"You will understand one day, ma petite" her mother had told her, smiling.

And had the queen not said that a woman could feel passion even if she did not love a man? But all Alix had felt was pain and degradation. She suspected it was all she would ever know from Hayle Watteson. Alix pulled the coverlet back over her cold body. He was a cruel and stupid creature. She was going to pray to the Blessed Virgin that he got her with child quickly, for the thought of having to bear his cruel attentions night after night was too terrible to even contemplate. Alix instinctively knew that her husband would never treat her any other way than he had treated her tonight. Hayle hated her for being what his beloved Maida couldn't be. And he would continue to punish her for it.

He came again just before the dawn, when Alix could see just the faintest sliver of light beginning to creep along the edges of the shutters, but the room was still in darkness. He woke her roughly, shaking her hard. "Take the position you were taught earlier," he ordered her. "Legs spread, arms about your head. Do not speak, and this time make no noise at all, whore. I know you could not prevent your earlier scream, and I forgive you for it. But I will have no sound from you." He penetrated her once again without further ado, riding her until the inevitable conclusion. Then he left her, telling her, "I will be back tomorrow night."

When she was certain he was gone, Alix crept from her bed and went to the small hearth. There in a little round container was a live coal. She put it into the midst of the wood kindling and blew upon it until a small flame leaped up to catch at the wood. Soon the fire was blazing merrily and the chill was leaving the chamber. Alix placed the earthenware pitcher of water into the edge of the hearth to warm. Then she climbed back into her bed to sleep for a short while more.

Bab awoke her at dawn, opening the shutters to allow the light of day into the room. Alix took the now-hot water from the fireplace and bathed herself thoroughly.

"Well, he did his duty by you, I see," Bab said, yanking the sheet from the bed. "The old lord will be pleased, mistress."

"Yes," Alix said. "He will be pleased, I'm certain." She pulled on a clean camise, and then her nut-brown jersey gown. After pulling on a pair of woolen socks, she put her feet into her sollerets. Then, sitting on the edge of the bed, she took up her hairbrush and brushed her hair out, plaiting it into a single thick braid and tying off the end of it with a bit of white ribbon.

"I'll be in the hall seeing to the meal and the royal departure," Alix said to her servant, and then she left the chamber. She found her father up and in the company of Sir Udolf. Alix greeted them pleasantly, avoiding their questioning looks, and then sought out the steward. "Donald," she said, "have you told the cook to prepare food for the royal party's trip today? And send to the stables to make certain their horses are ready and that the creatures' feet are healthy. It will not do for them to be caught on this side of the border by the Yorkists."

"The cook has been advised, and I'll go to the stables myself, mistress," he told her. The steward was no kin of Maida's and was loyal to Sir Udolf.

"And will you see that a chamber with a hearth is prepared for my father today? He cannot continue to sleep in the hall," Alix continued.

"I will, mistress," the steward replied with a small bow.

"Thank you," Alix said.

The queen came into the hall prepared for travel. Her little son was with her. He ran to Alix and put his arms about her waist. She embraced him, tousling his hair and smiling down at him. "So, my lord Edward, you are leaving us," Alix said to him. "You are going into Scotland today."

"King James is a boy like me," Edward Plantagenet replied. "Do you think he likes to play, Alix?" His small face looked up at her. "I will miss you so much! You are much more fun than Edmee. She never lets me do anything, and is always running after me. I wish she had married the baron's son. Then you could come with us."

I wish she had married Hayle too, Alix thought silently to herself. Then she said, "Well, I had to marry Sir Udolf's son because poor Papa cannot travel any longer and needs a good home. And the baron needed a good wife for his son. So we are both well served, my lord Edward. Ohh, what a fine time you will have in Scotland!"

The young prince sighed. "I liked it better when my father was king of England."

"Your father is England's king," Alix said quickly.

Edward Plantagenet looked at her with eyes that were far older and wiser than he was. "My father has been dethroned, Alix. Edward of York now sits in his place. We must go to Scotland so they cannot kill my father and me," he said to her as if explaining it to a child. "My mother says she will not let them take my inheritance, but my mother has no army with which to fight the Yorkist pretender."

"If anyone can raise an army, my lord Edward," Alix answered him, "it is your mother." She loosened his grip upon her. "Now go to the high board and eat your meal. You have a full day's ride ahead of you." Turning him about, she sent him off.

Margaret of Anjou came to her side. "You are all right? It went well?" she inquired softly.

"The deed is done, madame," Alix answered.

"But it went well?" the queen pressed her.

Swallowing back any outward sign of anger, Alix said to the older woman, "He will not have me but in a totally darkened room. I am not permitted to speak, but must spread myself open to him and not touch him. He came twice last night, mounted me, and did what was necessary. Nothing more. Not a kiss or caress. I can only pray to the Blessed Mother that I am quickly with child so I may be done with him, madame."

"Ahh, m'fant," the queen cried softly. "What have I done to you?" Tears sprang into her eyes. "But for the Yorkists, none of this would have happened!" Briefly she looked genuinely distraught.

"You did what was necessary to protect Papa and me, madame," Alix said quietly, feeling guilty that her anger had permitted her to tell the queen of her misery. "Sir Udolf is good to both Papa and me. All I need do is give him a grandchild, preferably a lad. Pray for me, madame, as I will pray for you, the king, and Prince Edward." Alix brushed away the tears that now stained Margaret of Anjou's face. "Your husband and son are at the high board now, madame. Let us go and join them. Your day will be long."

Alix oversaw the meal expertly. The cook had served up oat stir-about with bits of dried fruit in it. There were hard-boiled eggs, a small ham, half a wheel of hard yellow cheese, newly churned butter, a pitcher of heavy cream, and freshly baked bread. "Donald, the steward, has seen to food for your travels. The blacksmith has given the horses new shoes, and they stand ready for your departure," she told the royal couple.

The king suddenly spoke. "You have done well, mistress. Your hospitality has been gracious, and we will not forget you when we come again. We are traveling to Windsor today, you know."

Alix smiled. "God travel with Your Highness," she told him, and he nodded. Poor man, Alix considered. He knows not where he is, or where he goes. What will happen to them? And for the first time since Blanche Givet had died her daughter was glad, for at least her mother did not have to witness the fall of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou, whom she loved. God help them, Alix thought, for who else will?

Their meal eaten, the royal party prepared to depart Wulfborn Hall. They were accompanied by the fifteen loyal retainers left to them, and their three servants. Edmee and Fayme hugged Alix, both weeping copiously as they were boosted onto their horses. Alexander Givet gave the king's body servant, John, the few remedies left to him that would ease the king's anxiety or help him to sleep. He bowed to the king, who nodded vacantly, shook hands with the little prince, and finally he came to the queen.

"So, madame, we come to the end of this long road we have traveled together," he began as he took up both of her hands and kissed them reverently. "I would continue on if I could, but while my daughter continues to deny it, I am dying."

Margaret of Anjou nodded. "I know, Alexander," she replied. "You have been the loyalist of the loyal and I am not unaware. I fear, however, I have repaid you and Blanche ill by arranging this union for Alix. Yet if she will give the baron a grandchild her place in his house and heart will be safe. The son is a couchon, but the father is a good man. Alix will not suffer in his care."

"I will be here for my daughter as long as I can be," the physician said. He kissed the queen's hands again. "Go with God, madame. Leave England to the Yorkists for now, and take the prince home to Anjou, where he will be safe and live to reclaim his kingdom one day. I know you are hurt, and angry, but take my counsel in this, madame."

"I cannot desert my husband," the queen said.

"The king, God protect him, will never rule again," Alexander Givet told her. "Save yourself, madame, and save the little prince. You have never in all the years I have known you failed in your duty, Highness. Forgive me if I speak candidly, but it is the privilege of a dying man."

She squeezed the two hands holding her. "My duty is first to my husband, Alexander. Do not fear for me. It will be God's will that prevails in the end."

He kissed her elegant gloved hands a third and final time. "Le bon Dieu and his Blessed Mother protect you all," Alexander Givet said, his eyes wet with his tears. "Farewell, my beloved lady."

Margaret of Anjou nodded silently and quickly turned away from the physician lest he see her own tears. A servant helped her to mount her mare. The captain of the little troop raised his hand and called out, "Allez!" The small royal party began to move off, down the narrow dirt track that led north. The weather was fair. The hills beginning to green up. The queen turned but briefly in her saddle to raise a hand in farewell to Alexander Givet and his daughter.

Around her everyone went back to their duties. Her father was helped into the house by Wat, but Alix stood silently before the hall watching until the riders were no more than specks on the road, finally disappearing over the horizon. The life she had known was almost entirely gone. Only her father remained. Yet for how long? How long until she was entirely at the mercy of Hayle Watteson, who loved not his wife but the miller's daughter, who would bear his first child. If he truly loved the girl, she couldn't blame him for resenting the wife foisted upon him. Still, it wasn't her fault, was it? She turned and reentered the house. I will not allow him to punish me because of something neither of us can help, Alix thought. I will be strong for my father. For Sir Udolf who is good to us. For my husband who is a child.

It startled her to face that realization. Hayle Watteson was a child in a man's body. A mature man would have realized his wife had to be of equal blood to him. He would have wed such a woman and kept his mistress discreetly in the background. If his mistress bore him children, he would provide for them, but he would never force his lover or their children into his wife's realm. His wife's children would be his heirs. Perhaps in such a rural setting as she now found herself her husband's children would know one another, but they would all keep their place.

She knew this wasn't going to happen with her husband. Hayle Watteson would crow and boast when Maida delivered her child. If it was a male child so much the worse for them all. And if Alix did not give him a strong legitimate son, he would blame her alone. And if Sir Udolf should die what would happen to her? Alix grit her teeth. If anything happened to her father-in-law she would flee Wulfborn Hall as quickly as she could. She would not remain to be hated by a peasantry who didn't even know her, and a husband who was little better than a brute. She had agreed to this marriage for her father's sake, but although she would not admit it aloud, Alix knew that Alexander Givet would not live for very long. He would stay as long as he could for her sake. But one day even that would not be enough, and he would die.

In the days that followed the royal family's departure Alix found those who served her doing so with a grudging respect. They had expected someone associated with a queen to be high-blown and arrogant. Alix, however, was gentle-spoken and patient. She knew exactly how her household should be managed, and she guided her servants with a firm hand but kind words. Sir Udolf managed his poor lands carefully, attempting to teach his son who would one day inherit them, but Hayle had no forbearance for planting schedules, haying, harvesting, counting sheep or cattle. He wanted nothing more than to spend his time riding the hills hunting, or being with Maida.

And each night, but for when her courses were upon her, he visited Alix's bed in his attempt to sire a legitimate heir upon her. Alix hated that brief hour each night, but she bore it, for it was just about the only time she ever came in contact with her husband. But as Maida's belly swelled Hayle began to become impatient that Alix showed no evidence of being with child.

"I have been given a barren whore to wife," he mocked her one evening.

"Children should come from love, or at least respect. You neither love nor respect me," Alix responded coldly.

"If you cannot give me an heir, what good are you to me?" he snarled.

"Perhaps it is you who are barren," Alix snapped back at him. "Are you so certain the child that woman carries is yours? I have seen your Maida. She is very fair, perhaps even more so than I. Are the village lads so blind to her beauty that they leave her in peace? And was she a virgin when you first mounted her as I was, or had she taken lovers before you, sir? Perhaps if you showed me the tiniest bit of kindness, if you were gentle with me, I would conceive. But you are cruel, and you are hateful! It is not my fault that you cannot have the woman you love to wife. I treat you with respect, and ask nothing more than you do the same with me. But you are constantly flaunting your mistress before me. Always berating me because I am Alix and not Maida. If it were not for my sire I should have never agreed to this marriage. Be warned that when he dies, I will flee you at the first opportunity, Hayle Watteson. And you will never find me. You will not know if I am alive or dead. The church will not allow you to remarry without proof of my demise. And the law will not allow your bastard to inherit. Wulfborn will be brought down even as you will be brought down!"

He swore at her in the darkness, reaching out to grasp her long hair. "Have I not warned you, whore, that you are never to speak to me when I come to your bed?" Then he began to beat her, but Alix pulled from his grip and quickly jumped from the bed before he could do any damage, hiding in a corner where he could not see her. With a violent oath, Hayle arose from the bed and stormed from the chamber. He did not return for several nights, much to her relief. But when he did, it was the same as it had ever been. Alix put him from her mind but for that one hour each night when she was forced to bear his company in the pitch-black silence.

Her father had encouraged her to revive the old herb garden they found in the larger walled garden of the hall. "Look," he said that late April day when he had spied it, "lavender, rosemary, sage, peppermint, and rue, mignon. You must begin to supply your apothecary. You will be responsible for your people should illness strike the hall or the village. Have you not learned from me the remedies necessary for caring for the sick?"

"And how to bind and heal a wound," Alix replied. "And to sew a cut."

"My physician's bag with its tools is yours, Alix," her father told her. "Now, let us see to this little garden."

She worked with young Wat beneath her father's supervision to bring the garden into full flower by early summer. And she walked out into the fallow fields gathering flowers, seeds, and grasses that held medicinal value, digging up certain roots. And each day when she returned to the hall she would go first to her father, telling him of what she had found, listening to his advice, learning more about what she had found. One afternoon she showed him the seeds of the wild carrot she had found. "These are what you give me for strength," Alix said with a smile.

Alexander Givet sighed. For her own sake she had to know the truth before he could no longer tell her. "They are not for strengthening," he said. "They have another use, mignon. They are to prevent conception."

Alix paled. "Papa! What have you done to me?" She was horrified by the revelation. "You know I must have a child."

"Non!" he said in a hard voice such as she had never before heard him use. "You must never have your husband's child. If you do not give him a son but rather a daughter, he will berate you for it. If you do give him an heir, he will try to take the child from you and make your life even more miserable. Sir Udolf is in his prime, and hearty in his health, but what if an accident befell him? You would be left with his son and none to protect you, mignon."

"Papa, he has already called me barren. If I do not have a child I am of no use to him, and even Sir Udolf will see that. What will happen to me then? My very life is in peril and especially if Maida has more children."

"Wait at least until I am gone," her father begged.

Alix sighed. "I will wait," she said.

The summer passed, and autumn arrived. No one had come to Wulfborn Hall seeking King Henry. It was obvious that the new king had more important matters to attend to, and Sir Udolf was relieved. Loyal he might have been to Henry Plantagenet, but now his loyalty must belong to the Yorkist king should he be queried.

Isolated though Wulfborn was, the lord of the Northern Marches was not above paying him a visit.

On a gray, oddly warm day in mid-October Maida went into labor with her child. And it was on that same day that Alexander Givet chose to die. He had been fine in the morning. Alix had left him seated by the warm hearth as she departed to seek any useful plant that she had earlier missed in her harvesting. There had been a hard frost, and Sir Udolf told her it but portended an early winter. Hayle had run into the hall as she was leaving to announce that his mistress was in labor with their child, and he smirked at Alix. She shrugged and walked past him.

The warm weather after the past cold days was strange. The ground had thawed enough for her to dig some roots she had missed. She found a patch of wild carrot, and carefully snipping the flower heads, shook the seeds into her pouch. She felt no guilt at doing so now. Hayle's behavior had hardened her heart even more. She had meant what she had said to him. When her father was gone and buried she would go. She could not remain in a loveless marriage. But where she would go she had no idea. She couldn't return to the queen. The queen would send her back to Wulfborn and to Hayle Watteson. She would have no choice.

Alix walked though the village as she returned to the hall. She passed the house where Maida lived with her mother. She could hear the laboring woman's howls and groans as she walked by. The girl's little sister stood in the open door watching her as she passed, and unable to help herself Alix made a rude face at the child. The child turned and fled back into the cottage. Alix laughed, feeling better at being able to make this simple gesture of defiance towards her husband and his mistress.

Entering the house, she went immediately to her little apothecary and set aside her pouch. She would sort everything out later. Hurrying to the hall she found her father as she had left him, but he was now sleeping. "Papa, I'm back," Alix said, bending to kiss his brow and kneeling by his side. It was cold, and Alexander Givet did not move. "Papa? Papa!" Her heart began to hammer in her chest. "Non! Non! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Papa, do not leave me," Alix sobbed, and then she began to weep wildly.

The servants coming into the hall saw her grief and quickly realized what had transpired. One of them ran to find Sir Udolf, who hurried quickly to Alix's side.

"My child! Ahh, my poor lass. He is gone, is he?"

Alix looked up at her father-in-law and nodded. Then she said, "Why was no one with him? Why was he left to die alone, my lord? Where was Wat?"

Wat stepped forward. "I brought him wine when he asked me, mistress. Not more than an hour ago. He drank some and then said he would rest for a while and dismissed me. I went to his chamber, for he had a robe that needed repair, and my mother said she would do it. I brought it to her and waited. I was not gone long, I swear it!"

Alix looked at her father. His body showed no signs of distress. His face was at peace. Indeed, there was a small slight smile upon his lips. It was obvious to her that he had just gone to sleep. "There is no blame to be had here," she finally said. "Wat, go and fetch the priest."

"He will be buried on the hillside with our own family," Sir Udolf said. "I am so sorry, Alix. He was a good man even as his daughter is a good woman."

Alix rose to her feet wearily. "Thank you, my lord," she said.

Hayle did not come to her that night, and Alix was relieved. She could not have born his cruelty right now. She felt vulnerable and alone. In the morning she learned that Maida was still in labor. She briefly felt pity for the girl. The priest had come the night before and blessed the body of the physician. Alix and two of the women servants had bathed his frail body and dressed him in his best dark blue damask silk robe. His body had been carried to his chamber, and now with morning the men brought a coffin into the house. Alexander Givet was put into it and carried to the church at the end of the village, where a Mass was said for his soul. He was then buried on the hillside, Alix, Sir Udolf, and Wat following the coffin to the graveyard.

Alix remained by her father's grave for much of the day. The winds had begun to blow from the north, and she was glad for her heavy wool cape with its furred hood. Finally, with the red slash of the setting sun burning through the gray clouds on the horizon, Alix arose from her sire's grave and returned home. Passing Maida's cottage once again she heard shrieks from within and the roar of her husband's voice as he protested something that did not please his childish nature.

Alix went to her bed, for she was exhausted from her sorrow and her weeping. She had never felt more alone in her life. And then in the morning Bab came into her chamber filled with the latest gossip.

"Good morrow, mistress, and it is certainly a good morning for you. Maida has died, and her babe with her! It was a lad. A great big creature like his father, and it almost split the lass in two birthing it. When it came out the cord was about its wee neck and its face was blue. And then she began to bleed and it couldn't be stopped, so she died, Maida did."

"Why was I not called?" Alix asked Bab. "Perhaps I might have stopped the girl's bleeding. There are herbs."

"Call you?" Bab laughed harshly. "Why would we call you? You hated our Maida. Why would you help her? She was the lass your husband loved. You probably wanted her dead. Her sister, Nora, says you made a wicked face as you passed the cottage yesterday. Did you spell our Maida?"

"I stuck my tongue out at the brat," Alix said. "She looked rudely at me."

"He's mad with grief," Bab said. "Aye, he is."

"I am sorry," Alix replied, not knowing what else to say. She had seen Maida several times, but she had never spoken a word to her, nor had the girl addressed her. As for Hayle, he would undoubtedly find another girl to love, for like any child who loses a toy he would want it replaced. It would not, Alix knew, be her, but maybe before he found another she might soften his heart long enough to conceive a child. And it would not be done in the dark. She would have no more of that foolishness, Alix decided. As soon as Hayle's grief had eased, she would cease taking the wild carrot seeds her father had prescribed. She would attempt to win him over enough to give him a child. A child who would not be overshadowed by Maida and her son. She would try to make peace with him for both their sakes, and for Sir Udolf, who so desperately wanted to know that his son had a legitimate heir to follow him.

It would not be easy, Alix knew. But it was her duty. Both her mother and the queen would be pleased that she was attempting to make things right. Had they both not taught her that a woman had a duty to her lord and must honor it? She couldn't run. There was no place to go, but she would do her best to be the kind of lady that Wulfborn Hall deserved. And surely her husband could be brought around even if only temporarily.