'You must wait,' the man-at-arms called down, and the visitor nodded.
'Send to the hall,' the man-at-arms said to one of his fellows. 'Tell the laird Sir Udolf Watteson asks to speak with him and begs shelter for the night. He's an Englishman, but he seems peaceable enough.'
The soldier nodded and ran off to the great hall, where the laird and his wife were seated. The man bowed to the laird. 'There is an Englishman at the gates, six men-at-arms riding with him. He asked to speak with you, and he begs shelter for his party this night, my lord.'
'Does this Englishman have a name?' the laird asked.
'Sir Udolf Watteson of Wulfborn Hall,' the man replied.
Beside him the laird heard the sharp intake of Alix's breath. He turned to see she had gone pale. Very quietly he said, 'Go to our chamber and do not come out unless I send for you. I will send Fiona to be with you.'
She did not argue, but arose and almost ran from the hall.
'Fenella,' the laird called, and the housekeeper came from another part of the hall. 'Find Fiona and take her to my wife. They are to remain abovestairs until our guest has departed. It's the Englishman she fled.'
'Right away, my lord,' Fenella replied, and hurried to fetch Fiona.
'Go back to the watch,' the laird said. 'Sir Udolf is welcome at Dunglais. Put his men in the stable to sleep. They can be fed here in the hall, but make certain we outnumber them. Do you understand?'
'Aye, my lord,' the man said, and hurried out.
'Iver, go and bring our guest into the hall,' the laird instructed his steward.
Iver bowed to his master and went from the hall. He knew who their guest was, for Fenella had told him of Alix's history as she had told the housekeeper. The laird was right to keep his wife from the hall. There was less apt to be difficulty if Sir Udolf was unaware of her presence at Dunglais. Iver entered the courtyard as the Englishman was slowly dismounting his horse. 'My lord, I am Iver, the laird's steward. Welcome to Dunglais. If you will follow me, I will take you to my master.'
'Aye, thank you,' Sir Udolf said. He had almost bypassed this keep, for it was small and certainly undistinguished, but he could not be satisfied that he had lost Alix until every nook and cranny had been investigated. But he was weary and sore from his days of riding. He had to admit to himself that he was not the young man he once was. He was surprised to find the great hall of the house warm, clean, and quite pleasant. A woman lived here, he was quite certain.
The laird came forward, his big hand stretched out in welcome. 'Sir Udolf, I am Malcolm Scott, the Lord of Dunglais. Since our two countries seem to be at peace with each other I welcome you. What brings you to my keep?' The laird cast a quick glance at Iver, who, snapping his fingers at a serving wench, brought her quickly forward with a tray containing two goblets of wine that she offered with a curtsy to her master and his guest. 'Come and sit by the fire,' the laird invited. And when the two men had settled themselves and taken their first sip of wine, Malcolm Scott looked expectantly to Sir Udolf Watteson. 'You have ridden far?' he asked.
The older man nodded. 'I have been back and forth across the border for some months now, my lord,' Sir Udolf said. 'I seek a young woman who is my betrothed wife.' He sighed. 'She was wed to a blood relation of mine. When he died tragically, I decided to take her for my own, as my wife was long dead. The lady in question is of good family and sweet nature. What better woman with whom to spend my later years? While I waited for the dispensation from York so that we might wed, she grew discouraged and departed my house without my knowledge. I have sought for her ever since.'
'A sad tale indeed,' the laird said. 'But why do you think her in Scotland?'
'Her godmother is here,' Sir Udolf replied. 'I have already visited her and gained her permission to wed her godchild, as she has no other living family.'
'How fortuitous,' the laird murmured.
'I have visited many keeps these past months, but no one has seen or heard of my betrothed. I am almost ready to give up,' Sir Udolf said.
'If the lady was traveling alone,' the laird began. 'You are certain she was traveling alone, aren't you?'
'Most assuredly!' Sir Udolf replied, his tone slightly offended. 'She was a lady of the highest moral character.'
'A woman traveling alone could easily have been attacked and killed for her horse and any valuables she carried,' the laird said.
'She was a-foot,' Sir Udolf answered him. 'She had her own mount in my stables, but such was her good character that she would not take the beast.'
'A-foot!' the laird exclaimed. 'Why, then, it is certain, my lord, the lady is long dead. A woman alone and out upon the moor would be vulnerable not only to wicked men, but vicious beasts as well. Only five years ago the bones of a woman were found out on the hillside.'
'But how did you know it was a woman if there were only bones?' Sir Udolf wanted to know.
'There were scraps of her clothing amid the bones,' the laird replied. 'If your lady did not go to her godmother, which was undoubtedly her destination, and no one has seen her, it is likely the poor soul is dead.'
'So I fear,' Sir Udolf said, 'but as soon as the snows left the hills I thought I must look one more time.' He sighed, and then said, 'Your hall is a fine one, my lord. Your wife and her servants keep it well.'
'They do,' the laird agreed. 'I must apologize that my wife cannot join us. She has been ill these past few days, and our daughter too. Margaret is a good mother to our little Fiona, and it is possible she is breeding once again. We are eager for a son.'
'Aye, a man needs an heir for his house and his lands,' Sir Udolf said.
'Your men will sleep in the stables, for my house is small as you can see, but there is a comfortable bedspace for you here in the hall,' the laird told his guest.
Iver came to say that the meal was about to be served, and so the two men took their goblets and moved to the high board. Sir Udolf was frankly surprised by the quality of the meal he was offered. It was simple but tasty and well prepared. First came a platter of fish that had been poached in white wine. Trout from his own streams, the laird told him. He had royal permission to take both trout and salmon from the waters running across his lands.
Again Sir Udolf was surprised. 'How did you gain such permission?' he asked.
'The late king, James II, and I were friends,' the laird answered truthfully. 'Our kings in Scotland are more apt to make friends of humble border lords like myself than your English kings with their fine courts.'
Sir Udolf nodded. It was a known truth, but he was still impressed. Nonetheless his attentions were quickly turned to a fat capon that had been roasted crisp and golden along with a tasty venison stew. 'You keep a fine table,' he complimented the laird as he filled his trencher with the stew and a quarter of the capon.
'I shall tell my Margaret of your praise. It will give her pleasure,' Malcolm Scott said. He could not under the circumstances call his wife by her first name, but he knew it would seem odd to Sir Udolf if his wife was not referred to by name. So he had taken her saint's name instead. Margot was a French diminutive of Margaret, and Margaret was not only Scotland's saint, but it was also a popular name.
Sir Udolf reached for the cottage loaf and tore off a piece. He cut himself a chunk of the half wheel of cheese upon the board. 'You have a good wife,' he noted as he filled his belly. He was hungry, and it had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a fine meal. A man with a good cook and a wife who knew how to direct that cook was a fortunate man indeed.
The meal finished, the laird invited Sir Udolf to play a game of chess with him. The two men played for two hours, and then Malcolm Scott arose from the game table.
'I will leave you, my lord,' he said. 'My housekeeper, Fenella, will show you to your sleeping space. I shall see you on the morrow. Good night.' He bowed to his guest.
'Good night, my lord, and thank you,' Sir Udolf replied, returning the bow.
The laird hurried from the hall and upstairs to the bedchamber he now shared with his wife. She was standing by the hearth warming her hands as he entered.
'Is he gone?' Alix asked, turning to face him.
'He's sleeping in the hall and will be gone on the morrow,' her husband answered her. Then he took her into his arms. 'Dinna fear, lassie. He's just about ready to give up his search for you. But you know he went to your queen, dispensation in hand, to gain her permission to wed you.'
'And undoubtedly brought her a bag of coins to ease her conscience,' Alix said bitterly. Then she sighed. 'Poor queen. She is desperate by now, I imagine. It has been over two years since they departed England. The new king
