The Captive Heart (9 page)

Frightened suddenly, Alix screamed a piercing cry. The blank look in his eyes had now been replaced by a mad fury. She shrieked again, falling back upon the bed.

He fell upon her, his hands wrapping themselves about her slender neck. “I will not allow you to live if my Maida is dead,” he said in a cold voice. His hands began to tighten about her throat, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh.

Alix clawed at those hands, loosening them enough to scream again and yet again. “Help me! Help me! He is trying to kill me!” she cried as his hands again closed about her flesh. She fought the madman, struggling to sit up, scratching his face, yanking at his hair as he sought to choke the life from her. And then, to her vast relief, the door to her chamber flew open again as the two serving men rushed in, pulling Hayle Watteson from atop Alix. Sir Udolf stood, staring with shock and dismay at the scene before him.

Alix reached up to stroke her bruised skin. The marks of his fingers were bright scarlet on her creamy flesh, and she was gasping for air. She tried to stand, but her legs would not hold her. And then, without warning, Alix began to cry.

Her husband, restrained by his father’s servants, stared at her, and then with a shout he broke away from his keepers and ran from the room.

“Take him!” Sir Udolf roared. He was furious and dismayed all at once. “Alix, my child, I am so sorry,” he began. “In my eagerness for a grandchild I forced him to come to you, and it was too soon. I see that now. Forgive him. Forgive me.” And then the baron departed the chamber following the sound of his son’s pounding feet and those of the servants pursuing Hayle. The madman moved up the stairs of his house, to the attics where his servants slept. There was a narrow corridor on that top floor, and reaching it, Sir Udolf saw his son standing in the open window at the hall’s end. For a brief moment he thought that his heart had stopped, but no. It was beating rapidly. The two serving men seemed frozen where they stood.

“I’m sorry, Da. I have to go to my Maida,” Hayle Watteson said in a clear, calm voice. And then he flung himself from the window’s ledge.

“Jesu! Mary!” one of the serving men cried, and they both crossed themselves.

Sir Udolf stared at the open window. His son. His son had stood in that window but a moment ago, and now he was gone. The baron turned and ran with all possible haste downstairs, trying as he ran to remember which side of his house the attic corridor window was located. Two men from the stables came running, shouting, pointing. He followed them in the dusk of evening. Hayle Watteson lay sprawled upon the earth, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Sir Udolf knelt by his son’s body.

“He’s dead, my lord,” someone said.

“Killed himself, he did,” came another voice.

“Him and our Maida are together now for eternity,” someone else murmured.

Sir Udolf was numb with his grief. He brushed a lock of his son’s hair back from his forehead and rose to his feet. “Take him to the hall,” he instructed to no one in particular. “I must tell his wife.” Then the lord of Wulfborn turned away and walked slowly back into the house. His son was dead. He had no heir, and he was past forty. Finding his way upstairs to Alix’s chamber, he entered without knocking.

“My lord?” Alix looked up from her place on the bed where she was sitting. “What has happened?”

“My son is dead,” Sir Udolf said slowly as if tasting the words. “My son has killed himself, but I shall deny it to the priest. Hayle must be buried by the church.”

She grew pale with shock. “Why? How?” And then a sense of great relief swept over her. She would never again have to bear his company in a darkened room.

“He loved her,” Sir Udolf said in a tone tinged with surprise. “And he threw himself from a high window to be with her. He
really
loved the miller’s daughter. She was a peasant, but a few generations removed from serfdom. Yet he loved her though she was not suitable. A man marries for wealth, for station, for land, but not for love.”

“My parents loved each other,” Alix said quietly.

“Your father told me the Count d’Anjou made the match between him and your mother. That your mother and he barely knew each other. They were fortunate that love came afterwards. Hayle’s mother was a good woman, and I had great respect for her, but I did not love her. She brought me land as a dower. It was land that matched mine. It was a good bargain,” the baron replied.

“Yet I brought you nothing,” Alix responded.

“Nay, lass, you brought gold and silver. You, too, were a good match. My son should have been grateful to have you as a wife. You were a far better bride than he might have expected. You are pretty. You know how to manage a household. You are devout and mannerly.” The baron sighed. “I have done you an injustice, Alix, for I did not realize the depth of my son’s passions for the miller’s daughter.”

“You gave my father a home in his dying days, my lord,” Alix said, “and for that I will always be grateful. With your help I will now follow after the queen. Under the circumstances, she will surely give me her protection, if only for my parents’ sake.”

“You would leave Wulfborn?” He seemed surprised.

“My husband is dead, my lord. There is no place here for me now,” Alix said.

“Is there any chance you might be with child?” Sir Udolf asked hopefully.

Alix shook her head. “Your son could barely stand to use me even in the darkened chamber he seemed to need. He said my scent was not Maida’s, and he could not convince himself even in the blackness that I was she. While he entered my body, more times than not he did not spill his seed. And he had not come to my bed in the past few weeks. My courses came and went in the last week. I am sorry, but my womb is an empty one, my lord. There is no child of your son’s to be your heir.”

Sir Udolf nodded.

“I must go and prepare my husband’s body for burial,” Alix told her father-in-law.

Again he nodded. “I will leave you so you may dress,” he said and, turning, he was gone from her.

It was sad, Alix thought, that Sir Udolf had lost his only child. But I am free now! she exulted silently to herself. Certainly Sir Udolf will give me escort to the queen, and someone will know where she is. She will take me back and all will be as it was. My parents would want it this way. She pulled her brown jersey gown over her night garment, stuffed her feet into a pair of house slippers, and hurried to the hall.

Hayle Watteson lay upon the high board, his head lolling to one side. He had been a handsome man despite the petulant twist of his lips and his round, childish face. No one had bothered to close his watery blue eyes and so now Alix did. “Bab,” she called, knowing the woman would be lurking nearby.

Bab hurried forward. “He died to be with his Maida,” she said, looking from beneath her eyelids to see what kind of a reaction she would get from Alix.

“Aye, he did,” Alix agreed. “Does he have anything better to wear?”

Bab nodded.

“Then go and fetch it. He should be buried as befits his station as Wulfborn’s heir.” She turned to the other women servants who were standing in a knot nearby. “Go bring water and clothes, lasses. We must bathe him before he is dressed in his finest.”

The serving women scampered off to do her bidding. Bab had already gone.

Alix looked at the body upon the high board. She felt nothing for it, but then why should she? Hayle Watteson had treated her badly. He had neither loved nor respected her. She had done her best to please, to be a good wife. He had felt no such compunction to respond in kind. She had no regrets, and she would shake the dust of Wulfborn from her shoes as quickly as she could. To have remained to publicly mourn him would have been hypocritical. The winter was close, and she needed to find Margaret of Anjou quickly before travel would be too impossible.

The women returned, and together they stripped the clothing from the dead man’s body. Then they carefully washed him. They giggled and rolled their eyes at the sight of the young man’s genitals. “No wonder our Maida was so happy,” one said, and Bab cackled knowingly. A sharp look from Alix silenced her and prevented any further remarks. The older woman had brought a dark blue velvet robe whose sleeves were edged in gray rabbit fur. They dressed him in it, and Bab combed his hair before placing a strap of linen around his head and beneath his chin. His head straight now, Hayle did not appear so odd. They sewed him into his shroud, leaving only his head visible.

Alix called for candle stands to be brought and beeswax tapers to be lit. The frost had killed the last of the flowers, and so there were none. “Tell the village they may come on the morrow to pay their respects. We will bury him at noon.”

“Where is the grave to be dug?” Bab asked.

“That is Sir Udolf’s decision, not mine,” Alix answered her.

“He’d want to be next to his Maida,” Bab persisted.

“I care not, but it is still Sir Udolf’s decision,” Alix told the woman.

“The priest will not bury him. He killed himself,” Bab said.

“You are mistaken, Bab, and if you spread such a rumor Sir Udolf will see you driven from Wulfborn, and winter is almost upon us. My husband fell when he attempted to dislodge a stuck window, and it opened suddenly, throwing him off balance. This is a tragic accident. Do you all understand that?”

Bab nodded, and suddenly there was a grudging respect in her eyes for Alix.

Another woman spoke up. “Why should he be given the church’s blessing when our Maida was not?”

“Because he is the lord’s son and was heir to Wulfborn. Maida was merely a miller’s daughter. Will your family thank you if I have you driven from this place?” Alix’s voice was soft, but there was definite menace in it.

“Shut yer gob, Molly,” Bab said. “She’s right, and shows more loyalty to Sir Udolf than you are showing. Listen to me, all of you. The young lord’s death was an accident, and any says otherwise will be sorry they did.”

The serving woman threw Alix a sullen look but said no more.

“You are dismissed, all of you, with my thanks,” Alix said. She watched as they went from the hall, several of them whispering among themselves. Bab remained. Turning to her, Alix said, “Thank you. Now go and fetch Father Peter for me.”

“At once, mistress,” Bab replied respectfully. Then she hurried off.

Sir Udolf came into the hall, and walking over to his son’s body, began to weep.

“I have told all who helped me prepare him that this was an accident. He fell trying to open a window in the attics. They will be silent, for I have said that any who says otherwise will be driven with their families from Wulfborn.”

The baron looked at her with grief-stricken eyes. “You are clever,” he said slowly. “It was a kind thing to do.”

“I have but attempted to repay your kindness to me and to my father,” Alix replied. “I hope you will forgive me if I do not remain here to mourn, my lord. You will surely understand why I cannot.”

“In the morning I will send a messenger to Queen Margaret telling her of this tragedy,” Sir Udolf said, brushing his tears away.

“Will you tell her I am returning to her service?” Alix asked him.

“I will tell her of my son’s death, and then tell her I am sending to the archbishop in York for a dispensation to marry you,” Sir Udolf said.

Alix grew pale with shock. “My lord! The church will never allow you to marry your son’s widow. It is an unnatural thing! Besides, I do not wish to wed. I seek only to serve my queen in her exile. I am certain the reason she left me at Wulfborn was only for my father’s safety. She will surely take me back.”

“For whatever reason, you did not give my son an heir and now my son is dead. I need an heir for Wulfborn. I am still young enough to sire one, Alix, and I shall not be cruel to you as was my son. We already know each other. The queen has no place for you, I fear. You must have a husband, and I am in need of a wife.”

“The church will never approve such a dispensation,” Alix said stubbornly.

He smiled a little smile and, rubbing his thumb and his forefinger together, said, “The church is not above certain persuasions, Alix. Surely, having been raised at court, you understand that. Anything is possible given the right circumstances. I will have my dispensation by the spring, and you will be my wife as soon as I do. Until then, I will respect your place in my house as my son’s widow and Wulfborn’s chatelaine.”

She had no time for further protest, for Father Peter came hurrying into the hall. “I have heard of young Hayle’s death, my lord, but two tales reach my ears.”

“My son fell from an attic window trying to dislodge it,” Sir Udolf said. “It was an accident, Good Father.” He sighed sadly.

“A terrible tragedy indeed, my lord. I shall, of course, bury him on the morrow,” the priest replied.

“At noon so the Wulfborn folk may pay their respects to their heir,” Alix said.

“Of course, lady, and to you I offer my condolences. Despite the trials you have suffered in recent months, your example to all women is exemplary. I shall pray for Hayle, and for his father, and his wife,” the priest told them.

“We are grateful, Good Father,” the baron answered.

“I must go to my chamber, my lord, Father,” Alix said.

“Of course, my dear,” Sir Udolf responded. “This has been a terrible day for us all, and in seeing to the preparation of the body you have done your duty. It is late.”

Alix curtsied to the two men, and forcing herself not to run, went from the hall. She was horrified by Sir Udolf’s plans, but right now she wasn’t certain what she could do about them. But she did know she had no intentions of marrying her late husband’s father. And now her plan to rejoin the queen was blocked. She couldn’t flee to her godmother, for it would be the first place Sir Udolf would look for her, and if he could indeed obtain a dispensation from the church to marry her, Margaret of Anjou would probably agree. As much as she hated admitting it even to herself, Alix knew that the queen in her desperation had matters more important to her to consider than her godchild for whom she had already made provision. She was alone. Truly alone for the first time in her life. She was a widow. Her family was gone, and she had no intention of permitting Sir Udolf to make decisions for her. She would make her own decisions.