The Captive Heart

delivered her child. If it was a male child so much the worse for them all. And if Alix did not give him a strong legitimate son, he would blame her alone. And if Sir Udolf should die what would happen to her? Alix grit her teeth. If anything happened to her father-in-law she would flee Wulfborn Hall as quickly as she could. She would not remain to be hated by a peasantry who didn't even know her, and a husband who was little better than a brute. She had agreed to this marriage for her father's sake, but although she would not admit it aloud, Alix knew that Alexander Givet would not live for very long. He would stay as long as he could for her sake. But one day even that would not be enough, and he would die.

In the days that followed the royal family's departure Alix found those who served her doing so with a grudging respect. They had expected someone associated with a queen to be high-blown and arrogant. Alix, however, was gentle-spoken and patient. She knew exactly how her household should be managed, and she guided her servants with a firm hand but kind words. Sir Udolf managed his poor lands carefully, attempting to teach his son who would one day inherit them, but Hayle had no forbearance for planting schedules, haying, harvesting, counting sheep or cattle. He wanted nothing more than to spend his time riding the hills hunting, or being with Maida.

And each night, but for when her courses were upon her, he visited Alix's bed in his attempt to sire a legitimate heir upon her. Alix hated that brief hour each night, but she bore it, for it was just about the only time she ever came in contact with her husband. But as Maida's belly swelled Hayle began to become impatient that Alix showed no evidence of being with child.

'I have been given a barren whore to wife,' he mocked her one evening.

'Children should come from love, or at least respect. You neither love nor respect me,' Alix responded coldly.

'If you cannot give me an heir, what good are you to me?' he snarled.

'Perhaps it is you who are barren,' Alix snapped back at him. 'Are you so certain the child that woman carries is yours? I have seen your Maida. She is very fair, perhaps even more so than I. Are the village lads so blind to her beauty that they leave her in peace? And was she a virgin when you first mounted her as I was, or had she taken lovers before you, sir? Perhaps if you showed me the tiniest bit of kindness, if you were gentle with me, I would conceive. But you are cruel, and you are hateful! It is not my fault that you cannot have the woman you love to wife. I treat you with respect, and ask nothing more than you do the same with me. But you are constantly flaunting your mistress before me. Always berating me because I am Alix and not Maida. If it were not for my sire I should have never agreed to this marriage. Be warned that when he dies, I will flee you at the first opportunity, Hayle Watteson. And you will never find me. You will not know if I am alive or dead. The church will not allow you to remarry without proof of my demise. And the law will not allow your bastard to inherit. Wulfborn will be brought down even as you will be brought down!'

He swore at her in the darkness, reaching out to grasp her long hair. 'Have I not warned you, whore, that you are never to speak to me when I come to your bed?' Then he began to beat her, but Alix pulled from his grip and quickly jumped from the bed before he could do any damage, hiding in a corner where he could not see her. With a violent oath, Hayle arose from the bed and stormed from the chamber. He did not return for several nights, much to her relief. But when he did, it was the same as it had ever been. Alix put him from her mind but for that one hour each night when she was forced to bear his company in the pitch-black silence.

Her father had encouraged her to revive the old herb garden they found in the larger walled garden of the hall. 'Look,' he said that late April day when he had spied it, 'lavender, rosemary, sage, peppermint, and rue, mignon. You must begin to supply your apothecary. You will be responsible for your people should illness strike the hall or the village. Have you not learned from me the remedies necessary for caring for the sick?'

'And how to bind and heal a wound,' Alix replied. 'And to sew a cut.'

'My physician's bag with its tools is yours, Alix,' her father told her. 'Now, let us see to this little garden.'

She worked with young Wat beneath her father's supervision to bring the garden into full flower by early summer. And she walked out into the fallow fields gathering flowers, seeds, and grasses that held medicinal value, digging up certain roots. And each day when she returned to the hall she would go first to her father, telling him of what she had found, listening to his advice, learning more about what she had found. One afternoon she showed him the seeds of the wild carrot she had found. 'These are what you give me for strength,' Alix said with a smile.

Alexander Givet sighed. For her own sake she had to know the truth before he could no longer tell her. 'They are not for strengthening,' he said. 'They have another use, mignon. They are to prevent conception.'

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!'