The Captive Heart (8 page)

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.

A
t first Hayle Watteson would not allow them to either prepare for burial or bury his mistress and her infant. Only when Sir Udolf pointed out to his son that he was endangering Maida’s immortal soul were the women in the girl’s family allowed to wash and dress her. They laid her out in the gown that her lover had given her. It was a simple yellow jersey, but no woman in the village had anything nicer. They braided Maida’s long black hair with the yellow ribbons he had given her to match the dress. The dead child they wrapped in clean swaddling clothes. The priest would not bury her, for by her actions she and her child were both damned souls. And so Maida was sewn into her shroud with her son and carried to her grave by her family.

Hayle Watteson did not go to see her buried. The thought of them placing his mistress in the ground and covering her with the earth was too painful for him to watch. But when she had been interred he went and sat by the grave for almost a week while he wept and called her name. He would not eat and he would drink but little. His heart was broken by his loss. Finally Sir Udolf went to his son, and with the help of two men they pulled Hayle from the graveside.

“You must come home,” the baron told his only child. “Maida is gone, and your mourning will not bring her back.”

“I want to be with her” came the dull reply.

“You have a wife,” Sir Udolf snapped angrily. “And she has been more than patient with you. You have a duty to me, to her, to Wulfborn.”

“The whore cannot conceive!” Hayle cried. “I have plugged her almost every night since you forced this marriage upon me. My seed does not take root in her womb. She is useless to me, to us, to Wulfborn. If you had but accepted Maida, Da.” And Hayle began to weep inconsolably.

“Maida is gone,” Sir Udolf repeated. “Neither she nor the lad she bore will come back to you. Nothing will be the same ever again, my son. Cleave to your wife, and do not again call her whore. Alix is a good girl. She will give you a son in time.” He nodded to the two men holding Hayle’s arms. “Bring him home, lads.”

“Let me be!” the distraught man cried out. “I want to stay with my Maida!”

The two serving men, however, did their master’s bidding, and half carrying, half dragging Hayle, brought him to the house. There servants forcibly removed his clothing and bathed him. When the candles and lamps were lit they escorted him to the hall where he was seated at his father’s right hand while Alix sat on Sir Udolf’s left. The meal was brought, but Hayle Watteson would eat nothing, and he only sipped at his wine. Sir Udolf conversed with his daughter-in-law, attempting now and again to bring his son into their light conversation, but Hayle Watteson would not speak to them.

When the food had been cleared away Alix arose and curtsied to the two men. Then, without a word, she departed the hall.

“You will go to her tonight,” Sir Udolf said. “And you will treat her with kindness, for she has done you no wrong, my son.”

“She allowed the queen and her father to make a marriage with me,” he said. “She did not love me, and she knew I did not love her. She wanted a place for her father. She is little more than a whore, for she let herself be used by others. And she is barren.”

“She is a good lass, my son. You have not given her a chance because of your overwhelming passion for your mistress. But now Maida is dead and buried. Alix has behaved well since your marriage. She has kept the hall, and the house servants have come to respect and like her. You would like her too if you would but cease this unreasonable behavior. You must have an heir. You have a wife. Do your duty!”

“Mount her yourself!” his son snarled angrily.

The baron’s face grew crimson with his anger. “I have spoiled you,” he said in a suddenly hard voice. “I saw no harm in your taking a mistress. It is what a man does, but you do not behave like a man. You behave like a child. Must you be put to your wife like a stallion to a mare? Will you shame her so? She has done you no ill, Hayle. Why do you persist in punishing her?”

“She is not Maida” came the stubborn reply. “Why can you not understand that? Your grandson, my heir, died with Maida. There will be no other, damn you!” And Hayle Watteson stormed furiously from the hall.

“Go after him,” the baron ordered his servants. “And then take him to his wife.” He reached for his goblet and drained it, nodding to a servant to refill the container.

In her chamber Alix had drawn the draperies wide, and an autumn moon shone through the glass, spreading a wide beam across the floor. She had dismissed Bab, for the serving woman’s constant chatter and her lack of respect irritated Alix. Eventually she was going to have to find a servant who suited her better. She would wait until she was with child, for she knew Sir Udolf would give her anything at that point. Alix undid her long wavy hair and began to brush it out. Her mother had said its color was that of dark honey—rich and deep gold. The brush slicked down its length again and again and yet again. It was silky to the touch, Alix thought, as she plied her brush. Suddenly she heard a commotion in the hallway, and her door was flung wide and Hayle Watteson virtually thrown in by two husky male servants. Alix jumped up as he landed at her feet.

“Master said to bring him to you,” one of the men said with a half leer. Then they were gone, pulling the door closed behind them.

He got to his feet slowly. Between the moon and the candles, the chamber was well lit. He stared at Alix in her simple batiste night garment, her long dark gold hair framing her heart-shaped face, hanging about her shoulders. “You aren’t Maida,” he finally said. His eyes were dull, showing no emotion.

“No, I am your wife, Alix, my lord,” she answered quietly.

“You aren’t Maida!”
he repeated more forcefully, and began to become agitated. “My darling is dead, yet you live. You do not deserve to live!” He took a step towards her, his hands reaching out for her.