him. This evening had helped her to make up her mind. She must leave Wulfborn, and she must go the moment he was gone hunting. She could not wed him, and she did not think he could keep his growing desire for her in check until a dispensation arrived. What if he got her with child? Then she would have no choice but to remain. She knew that many would consider her actions foolish, but she had to go. Sir Udolf was old enough to be her father. Had become her father's friend. The thought of being his wife, of being mounted by him, repelled her, made her nauseous.
The following day she prepared her chamber for prayer and fasting. She told Bab of her plans, saying, 'I must not be disturbed while my lord is away. He has sent the priest to York, for a dispensation for he wishes to wed me himself and get an heir on me. Before I can be at peace with such a thing I must discharge a final duty to my husband. I will fast and pray for his soul while Sir Udolf is gone.'
'Why, the wicked old devil,' Bab said, grinning. 'We all knew he needed a new wife. He should have taken one years ago, after the second one died. He has not even taken a mistress, although now and again I know he satisfies his naughty urges on one or two widows in the village. But they can't give him an heir. Only something young and juicy like you can give him what he wants. And you, being orphaned, are content, I suppose, to have him for a husband. Well, you're strong enough to manage him, lady. And old men always dote upon their young wives, especially them that gives them bairns.'
'Of course I will do what is right,' Alix said. 'Now, do you understand that once I enter my chamber tonight I am not to be disturbed?'
Bab nodded. 'Aye,' she responded. 'Say your prayers and clear your conscience, lady. I cannot fault you for that.'
'No, you cannot,' Alix replied sharply.
Bab cackled with laughter. 'You look all soft and meek, but you are not,' she noted. 'I'll tell all to keep away. Shall I come to you when the master returns?'
Alix nodded. To do otherwise would have aroused Bab's suspicions. But where was she to go? She had had no family in England but her parents, who were now dead. The queen would-could-not take her back, and besides, Margaret of Anjou being a practical woman, would side with Sir Udolf. Perhaps if she could reach the coast she could take passage for France and then make her way to Anjou to find her father's family. It would not be an easy journey. Indeed, for a young woman traveling alone without even a servant it could be dangerous.
In the days before her father had died he had surprised her by giving her a pouch containing an amount just slightly in excess to the dower he had paid Sir Udolf. 'A woman alone should always have her own wealth for emergencies,' Alexander Givet had told his only child. 'Sew these coins into the hems of your gowns and your cloak. And tell no one, my daughter.'
Alix had followed his instructions, sewing at night in her chamber when she was alone. There had been eight gold coins and almost twenty of silver. She had put two gold and five silver pieces into each of her two jersey gowns. The remaining four gold coins, and ten silver she had hidden within her heavy wool clock, some in the hem, and others in a secret pocket she fashioned within the folds of the garment. She had put nothing in her silk damask gown, for it was too fine.
Alix had eaten the evening meal with Sir Udolf, who was now attempting a more intimate relationship with her. She managed to keep him at bay beneath a guise of shyness and propriety. It seemed to delight him and he praised her decorousness while attempting to kiss her now and again, chuckling when she fended him off with a scolding. Alix finally decided it was time to make her escape from the hall. She stood, but at the same time so did he. 'I shall not come to table on the morrow, for I will at first light begin my prayers and fasting,' Alix said, attempting to move away from him.
His arm reached out to clamp about her waist and he drew her to him. 'Give me a little kiss for luck, sweet lass,' he said to her. His other hand fumbled at her breast.
'My lord! Udolf!' Alix cried softly. 'This behavior is most inappropriate. Let me go at once! Ohh, how can you shame me like this?' she protested to him.
'Forgive me, sweet lass,' he said, but he did not release his hold upon her, and he could not resist giving her small round breast a little squeeze before he took his hand away. 'From the moment I realized you were to be mine, I grew as eager as a lad with his first love,' he admitted. 'The thought that you will be my wife has made me alive again! My son was a fool, Alix. You are fair to gaze upon. You are sweet-natured. I am a man long grown, but I cannot seem to resist you. I do not know how I will wait the winter long to possess you.' And then he kissed her mouth.
It was not an unpleasant kiss. More eager and excited. Indeed, almost boyish and sweet. Nothing at all like that first cruel kiss she had received from Hayle. Alix gasped, surprised, and pulled away from him. 'Shame, my lord!'
'I will not apologize,' he said almost defiantly, but he made no further move to touch her. 'I will be a good husband to you. And I mean to kiss you and court you the winter through, sweet lass. You might as well know it now and be accepting.'
Alix let a little smile touch her lips. She couldn't help it. Then she grew serious. 'You must respect me, my lord,' she told him sternly, 'even as I respect you.' Then she curtsied to him prettily. 'Good hunting, Udolf.'
He nodded. 'Thank you, my lady love,' he replied as politely. 'I will see you upon my return, and prepare to be kissed then.'
Alix hurried from the hall. Aye, it was time to go before the baron's newly discovered romantic nature aroused itself any further. Once a man's lust was engaged, he could not be stopped until he had attained his goal. She had seen that happen at court, and it seemed to be the same wherever men and women went. He was a good man, but she could not wed him. She did not want to ever wed again. But what would she do? She could not remain in England. The baron might come after her, and a man's word was always taken over a woman's. And as part of the queen's entourage her entire life until recently, she could be considered a traitor. She had overheard those who remained with King Henry until almost the end talking about how to save themselves and their families. Alix knew that association was often enough cause for guilt. No. She must leave England. She must go north, as the queen had done, into Scotland.
Alix prepared the soft leather pouch her mother had always carried when the court traveled. At its bottom she lay her father's few surgical instruments and several small containers of medicinals that she had made along with some bags of herbs. Sadly, she could not take her violet damask silk gown with her. She would wear one of her jersey gowns. The other she folded and put into the bottom of the pouch along with her camises, and two night garments. A smaller chamois pouch held her few bits of jewelry. She stuffed it at the bottom of the larger bag amid the folds of her gown. She would leave the sollerets, she decided, as she laid her leather house slippers atop her camises. They would only add weight to the pouch, and as long as she had her boots on her feet and her slippers, she could manage. She took two pairs of knitted stockings and stuffed them into the sack. Then, bathing her face and hands and brushing her long hair, Alix went to her bed. Who knew how long it would be before she slept in a clean soft bed again? Whispering her prayers, she asked God to protect her.
It was her habit to always wake early. Arising, she dressed quickly in two camises, one of lawn and the other of flannel. She pulled a pair of woolen stockings onto her feet along with her worn leather boots and drew her brown jersey dress over her slender form. Sitting upon the edge of her bed in the half-dark, half-gray light before the dawn, Alix braided her long hair into a thick plait. Then, lifting the strap of her pouch, she put it over her head to rest against one side of her body. Picking up her heavy wool cloak with its fur-edged hood and her gloves, Alix slipped from her chamber.
The house was completely silent. She knew that very shortly one of the servants would come to start the fires for the day. The cook would arrive in the kitchen to begin his preparations for the day. Alix hurried downstairs, and slipping into the pantry near the kitchen, took a loaf of day-old bread and a wedge of cheese. She tucked them into the top of her pouch and then filled the small stone flask she carried with watered wine. She listened, but the quiet was still deep as she crept quietly towards the kitchen door, which was rarely barred, even at night. It opened as
