The Captive Heart (10 page)

When the morning came, Alix sat in the hall with her father-in-law as the Wulfborn folk came to pay their respects to them and view Hayle’s body. She had dressed herself in her only good gown, the same violet damask silk she had worn on her wedding day almost seven months ago. The villagers shuffled by the body, but none, Alix noted, shed a tear. Hayle, despite his devotion to Maida, had obviously not been well liked by them. His father, however, was another thing. The loving respect they showed to Sir Udolf was touching, and the tears shed that day were for him.

She had never paid a great deal of attention to him, but now she studied him surreptitiously as they sat together. He was taller than his son and heavier set. But where Hayle had had blond, almost white hair, Sir Udolf’s pate was a bald one. He had but a fringe of grayish brown hair that ringed the back of his head. Where Hayle’s light eyes had been emotionless, Sir Udolf’s blue eyes were emotion filled. Alix believed him a good man, but the thought of marrying him repelled her. He was certainly her father’s age, and while she knew many young women wed with older husbands, the thought of his coupling with her was horrific. She did not like coupling. It was distasteful to her.

The noon hour came and before the six serving men came to take her husband to the small village church. Alix arose, took the needle and thread Bab handed her and, drawing the shroud over Hayle’s head, completed the sewing of the funerary garment. The heir to Wulfborn was then placed upon an open cart, which was driven through the village to the church where Father Peter said the Mass. Then the body was placed again upon the cart and taken to the grave.

“This is not hallowed ground,” the priest said as he saw where Hayle Watteson was to be buried.

“He would want to be buried next to Maida and his son,” Sir Udolf said. “What difference does it make, Good Father? Is the ground cursed?”

The priest raised his hand and blessed the open grave. “Not now,” he said.

The body was lowered into the ground. The prayers were said, and then the grave diggers moved to fill the grave. They waited until the mound of earth had been raised, and then turned away, making their way back to the hall. Sir Udolf took the priest aside and began speaking to him earnestly. The priest listened, but no sign of what he might be thinking showed on his ageless face. When he turned briefly to look at Alix, she quickly lowered her eyes. Surely Father Peter would dissuade Sir Udolf from his plans.

But to Alix’s shock, the priest came to see her several days later. She brought him to the fire in the hall and offered him a cup of cider. “Thank you, my daughter,” he said as he settled himself, pointing his sandaled feet to the fire. “Has the lord spoken to you of his desires, lady?” the priest inquired gently.

“I am not certain to what you refer,
mon père
,” Alix replied.

“Your modesty becomes you, daughter,” the priest responded. “Sir Udolf wishes to obtain a dispensation so he may wed you. He is in need of an heir now, and still filled with vigor. You are young and, it is to be hoped, fertile. You need a home. This would seem a good solution to the problems that you both face.”

“I would think a father attempting to wed his son’s widow would be an anathema to Holy Mother Church,” Alix said slowly. “And how can I think of Sir Udolf as a proper husband when I already think of him as a father? Would I not be committing the sin of incest, Good Priest?”

Father Peter looked briefly troubled, but then he said, “There is no blood link between you and Sir Udolf, for you did not give his son a child.”

“But his son’s seed entered me. Now you would ask me to accept the father’s seed? Surely that cannot be right!”

“We must leave these weighty matters of philosophy to the archbishop’s counsel in York, my daughter,” Father Peter said. “As a woman, you are not competent to make such decisions. They will decide what is best in this matter, but as you are an orphan and there is no blood between you and Sir Udolf, it is possible the archbishop’s counsel will decide to give him the dispensation, especially given the circumstances of your marriage. They will consider the fact that your inability to keep your husband by your side may have led to his unfortunate demise.”

“But his death was an accident!” Alix insisted.

“Given the circumstances surrounding his death, the archbishop’s counsel may have
certain
doubts,” the priest answered her smoothly.

“But he was involved with Maida before I ever came to Wulfborn Hall,” Alix said, in an attempt to defend herself.

“Still, as his bride, the church will believe you should have been able, by your good example, to bring him to your side and away from that of a wicked woman. And if it is thought that Maida lured him from beyond the grave, and you did not prevent it, the church will consider that you are in part responsible for the death of Sir Udolf’s only heir, that you owe him a debt that can only be paid in kind. As the good daughter of the church I know you to be, lady, you will obey the directive of our Holy Mother Church,” Father Peter concluded with a nod of his head. “Will you not?”

Alix swallowed hard. The priest reasoned skillfully, especially for a country cleric. “I will do what is right, Good Father,” she told him.

He smiled at her. “I know you will, my daughter,” he told her, “which is why tomorrow I will travel to York myself carrying Sir Udolf’s request along with my own recommendation that the dispensation be given. Such permission will have to be discussed and is not likely to be given before spring, so I will return quickly, for Wulfborn should not be left without its priest. There is much sin here, I fear. In the meantime, your presence as our lady will be a comfort to the folk.” The priest arose from his seat. “I must return to the church, for it will soon be time for evensong and vespers. Thank you for your hospitality, lady. I am comforted to know that you are a sensible girl.” And he hurried from the hall, his brown robes flapping about his scrawny ankles.

Alix shook her head. There was nothing for it but that she would have to flee. And soon. She knew Sir Udolf would be going hunting shortly so that the winter larder would be full. He had told her he would be away two days. The priest’s trip to York as well as his return would take far longer. It would be several weeks before he returned. But how could she keep the nosy Bab from learning that she was gone? Alix suddenly knew. When Sir Udolf rode out she would say that she would spend the time he was off hunting praying and fasting in her chamber for Hayle’s soul. She was not to be disturbed for any reason. Her strength of will after her husband’s death had impressed Bab, and the serving woman was now treating her with grudging respect.

“When do you plan to hunt?” Alix asked Sir Udolf that evening as they sat at the high board for the light evening meal.

“A few days before Martinmas,” he told her, taking her hand in his. “Is it possible you will miss me, my lass?” He kissed her hand, but did not release it.

With effort, she let him hold her hand and did not snatch it away. God’s wounds, but he was attempting to play the lover! Alix fought back a shudder. “There is something I wish to do, but I did not want to deprive you of my company, my lord.”

“And what is that, my sweet?” he asked her, smiling directly into her eyes.

Alix made her mouth turn up in a small return smile. “Father Peter has suggested that by not being able to comfort Hayle in his distress I might in part be responsible for his unhappy death, my lord.” She cast her eyes down.

“That is ridiculous!” he responded, dropping her hand. “The priest is an old fool, Alix. He knows nothing of love and the lengths to which it can drive you.”

“Still, my lord, it cannot hurt if I spend two days fasting and in prayer for my husband’s soul,” Alix replied. She sighed. “What can we know of God’s will, my lord? We are but mere mortals. It can surely not hurt any if I take the time to do this. And prayers for a husband from his wife will certainly be of help, considering his sin against me, my lord.”

“That you can forgive him!” the baron cried softly. “Ah, Alix, now I know I am right to make you my wife. What an example you will be to our children. I rue now that I did not wed you myself instead of giving you to my son. His lust for his mistress blinded him to your goodness and your beauty. I regret a long winter must pass before you will become mine.” His look was an ardent one.

Alix blushed, for she could not help it. “My lord, there is no guarantee that the church will give you a dispensation for a marriage between us,” she reminded him.

Sir Udolf smiled broadly. “Do not fret, my sweet lass,” he told her. “Father Peter carries a generous gift with him for whoever can help me attain such an indulgence. The priest will know the proper person to choose. You are safe at Wulfborn, Alix. It will always be your home, and if God favors us, you will be with child,
my child
, by this time next year.” And for the first time she saw a lustful look come into his eyes. “We should not have to wait,” he murmured almost to himself. He squeezed her little hand.

“Should we not mourn Hayle a good year?” Alix said, pulling her hand away.

“Nay. When the dispensation is given, you and I will marry without delay. I am no stripling, my sweet, although I promise to be a vigorous lover to you,” Sir Udolf told her. Leaning forward, he attempted to kiss her lips.

“Please, my lord,” Alix responded, drawing back so that his mouth did not touch hers. “Your son is not even cold in his grave. Your tone is too intimate. Your manner even more so.” Her tone had become scolding. Her look one of stern disapproval.

He was immediately contrite. “Forgive me, Alix,” he said, genuinely remorseful.

Alix nodded graciously at him and arose from the high board. “I will go to my own chamber now, my lord,” she told him.

“When we are alone together will you call me Udolf?” he asked her, rising too.

“If it would please you, my lord . . . Udolf,” Alix answered him. Then she said, “You did not tell me when you plan to hunt,
Udolf
.”

“Not tomorrow, but the day after. The weather is getting colder, but there are no signs of a storm on the horizon,” he told her. “You will find I am a good provider.”

“From the moment I entered this hall I have never wanted for anything, Udolf,” Alix responded. Then she left him. This evening had helped her to make up her mind. She must leave Wulfborn, and she must go the moment he was gone hunting. She could not wed him, and she did not think he could keep his growing desire for her in check until a dispensation arrived. What if he got her with child? Then she would have no choice but to remain. She knew that many would consider her actions foolish, but she had to go. Sir Udolf was old enough to be her father. Had become her father’s friend. The thought of being his wife, of being mounted by him, repelled her, made her nauseous.

The following day she prepared her chamber for prayer and fasting. She told Bab of her plans, saying, “I must not be disturbed while my lord is away. He has sent the priest to York, for a dispensation for he wishes to wed me himself and get an heir on me. Before I can be at peace with such a thing I must discharge a final duty to my husband. I will fast and pray for his soul while Sir Udolf is gone.”

“Why, the wicked old devil,” Bab said, grinning. “We all knew he needed a new wife. He should have taken one years ago, after the second one died. He has not even taken a mistress, although now and again I know he satisfies his naughty urges on one or two widows in the village. But they can’t give him an heir. Only something young and juicy like you can give him what he wants. And you, being orphaned, are content, I suppose, to have him for a husband. Well, you’re strong enough to manage him, lady. And old men always dote upon their young wives, especially them that gives them bairns.”

“Of course I will do what is right,” Alix said. “Now, do you understand that once I enter my chamber tonight I am not to be disturbed?”

Bab nodded. “Aye,” she responded. “Say your prayers and clear your conscience, lady. I cannot fault you for that.”

“No, you cannot,” Alix replied sharply.

Bab cackled with laughter. “You look all soft and meek, but you are not,” she noted. “I’ll tell all to keep away. Shall I come to you when the master returns?”

Alix nodded. To do otherwise would have aroused Bab’s suspicions. But where was she to go? She had had no family in England but her parents, who were now dead. The queen would—could—not take her back, and besides, Margaret of Anjou being a practical woman, would side with Sir Udolf. Perhaps if she could reach the coast she could take passage for France and then make her way to Anjou to find her father’s family. It would not be an easy journey. Indeed, for a young woman traveling alone without even a servant it could be dangerous.

In the days before her father had died he had surprised her by giving her a pouch containing an amount just slightly in excess to the dower he had paid Sir Udolf. “A woman alone should always have her own wealth for emergencies,” Alexander Givet had told his only child. “Sew these coins into the hems of your gowns and your cloak. And tell no one, my daughter.”

Alix had followed his instructions, sewing at night in her chamber when she was alone. There had been eight gold coins and almost twenty of silver. She had put two gold and five silver pieces into each of her two jersey gowns. The remaining four gold and ten silver coins she had hidden within her heavy wool cloak, some in the hem, and others in a secret pocket she fashioned within the folds of the garment. She had put nothing in her silk damask gown, for it was too fine.

Alix had eaten the evening meal with Sir Udolf, who was now attempting a more intimate relationship with her. She managed to keep him at bay beneath a guise of shyness and propriety. It seemed to delight him and he praised her decorousness while attempting to kiss her now and again, chuckling when she fended him off with a scolding. Alix finally decided it was time to make her escape from the hall. She stood, but at the same time so did he. “I shall not come to table on the morrow, for I will at first light begin my prayers and fasting,” Alix said, attempting to move away from him.