The Captive Heart (5 page)

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 camises 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 saltcellar, 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
χ
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.