Alix clawed at those hands, loosening them enough to scream again and yet again. “Help me! Help me! He is trying to kill me!” she cried as his hands again closed about her flesh. She fought the madman, struggling to sit up, scratching his face, yanking at his hair as he sought to choke the life from her. And then, to her vast relief, the door to her chamber flew open again as the two serving men rushed in, pulling Hayle Watteson from atop Alix. Sir Udolf stood, staring with shock and dismay at the scene before him.
Alix reached up to stroke her bruised skin. The marks of his fingers were bright scarlet on her creamy flesh, and she was gasping for air. She tried to stand, but her legs would not hold her. And then, without warning, Alix began to cry.
Her husband, restrained by his father’s servants, stared at her, and then with a shout he broke away from his keepers and ran from the room.
“Take him!” Sir Udolf roared. He was furious and dismayed all at once. “Alix, my child, I am so sorry,” he began. “In my eagerness for a grandchild I forced him to come to you, and it was too soon. I see that now. Forgive him. Forgive me.” And then the baron departed the chamber following the sound of his son’s pounding feet and those of the servants pursuing Hayle. The madman moved up the stairs of his house, to the attics where his servants slept. There was a narrow corridor on that top floor, and reaching it, Sir Udolf saw his son standing in the open window at the hall’s end. For a brief moment he thought that his heart had stopped, but no. It was beating rapidly. The two serving men seemed frozen where they stood.
“I’m sorry, Da. I have to go to my Maida,” Hayle Watteson said in a clear, calm voice. And then he flung himself from the window’s ledge.
“Jesu! Mary!” one of the serving men cried, and they both crossed themselves.
Sir Udolf stared at the open window. His son. His son had stood in that window but a moment ago, and now he was gone. The baron turned and ran with all possible haste downstairs, trying as he ran to remember which side of his house the attic corridor window was located. Two men from the stables came running, shouting, pointing. He followed them in the dusk of evening. Hayle Watteson lay sprawled upon the earth, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Sir Udolf knelt by his son’s body.
“He’s dead, my lord,” someone said.
“Killed himself, he did,” came another voice.
“Him and our Maida are together now for eternity,” someone else murmured.
Sir Udolf was numb with his grief. He brushed a lock of his son’s hair back from his forehead and rose to his feet. “Take him to the hall,” he instructed to no one in particular. “I must tell his wife.” Then the lord of Wulfborn turned away and walked slowly back into the house. His son was dead. He had no heir, and he was past forty. Finding his way upstairs to Alix’s chamber, he entered without knocking.
“My lord?” Alix looked up from her place on the bed where she was sitting. “What has happened?”
“My son is dead,” Sir Udolf said slowly as if tasting the words. “My son has killed himself, but I shall deny it to the priest. Hayle must be buried by the church.”
She grew pale with shock. “Why? How?” And then a sense of great relief swept over her. She would never again have to bear his company in a darkened room.
“He loved her,” Sir Udolf said in a tone tinged with surprise. “And he threw himself from a high window to be with her. Hereallyloved the miller’s daughter. She was a peasant, but a few generations removed from serfdom. Yet he loved her though she was not suitable. A man marries for wealth, for station, for land, but not for love.”
“My parents loved each other,” Alix said quietly.
“Your father told me the Count d’Anjou made the match between him and your mother. That your mother and he barely knew each other. They were fortunate that love came afterwards. Hayle’s mother was a good woman, and I had great respect for her, but I did not love her. She brought me land as a dower. It was land that matched mine. It was a good bargain,” the baron replied.
“Yet I brought you nothing,” Alix responded.
“Nay, lass, you brought gold and silver. You, too, were a good match. My son should have been grateful to have you as a wife. You were a far better bride than he might have expected. You are pretty. You know how to manage a household. You are devout and mannerly.” The baron sighed. “I have done you an injustice, Alix, for I did not realize the depth of my son’s passions for the miller’s daughter.”
“You gave my father a home in his dying days, my lord,” Alix said, “and for that I will always be grateful. With your help I will now follow after the queen. Under the circumstances, she will surely give me her protection, if only for my parents’ sake.”
“You would leave Wulfborn?” He seemed surprised.
“My husband is dead, my lord. There is no place here for me now,” Alix said.
“Is there any chance you might be with child?” Sir Udolf asked hopefully.
Alix shook her head. “Your son could barely stand to use me even in the darkened chamber he seemed to need. He said my scent was not Maida’s, and he could not convince himself even in the blackness that I was she. While he entered my body, more times than not he did not spill his seed. And he had not come to my bed in the past few weeks. My courses came and went in the last week. I am sorry, but my womb is an empty one, my lord. There is no child of your son’s to be your heir.”
Sir Udolf nodded.
“I must go and prepare my husband’s body for burial,” Alix told her father-in-law.
Again he nodded. “I will leave you so you may dress,” he said and, turning, he was gone from her.
It was sad, Alix thought, that Sir Udolf had lost his only child. But I am free now! she exulted silently to herself. Certainly Sir Udolf will give me escort to the queen, and someone will know where she is. She will take me back and all will be as it was. My parents would want it this way. She pulled her brown jersey gown over her night garment, stuffed her feet into a pair of house slippers, and hurried to the hall.
Hayle Watteson lay upon the high board, his head lolling to one side. He had been a handsome man despite the petulant twist of his lips and his round, childish face. No one had bothered to close his watery blue eyes and so now Alix did. “Bab,” she called, knowing the woman would be lurking nearby.
Bab hurried forward. “He died to be with his Maida,” she said, looking from beneath her eyelids to see what kind of a reaction she would get from Alix.
