The Captive Heart (40 page)

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

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

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

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

“She bore him no children,” Sir Udolf said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fought for my predecessor, Lancaster.” Again a statement.

“Aye, my lord.”

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

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

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

“Justice, my lord,” the baron said.

“What sort of justice?” King Edward asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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