The priest threw up his hands in defeat. This would end badly, but he had done his very best to turn the lord of Wulfborn away from his madness. He could do nothing more but pray for Sir Udolf. Alix Givet was not going to come back, and nothing Holy Mother Church said or did was going to change that. But he would travel with his master and be there for him when he was finally forced to face the truth of the matter.
They departed Wulfborn several days later, taking with them six men-at-arms whom Sir Udolf had trained from among his new villagers. Six were enough for protection, but not enough to appear hostile. Reaching Dunglais two days later, they found the small drawbridge that stretched across its moat raised. Father Peter noted that the moat was kept filled by a natural stream that traversed the hill upon which the stone keep known as Dunglais stood.
“Identify yourselves!” the guard on watch called down to the party before the keep’s gates.
“Sir Udolf Watteson, and Father Peter to see the laird,” the lord of Wulfborn called up to the man-at-arms.
“You’ll have to wait” was the reply, and the guard turned away to speak briefly with another man on the walls. Then he climbed down the stone steps from the wall and into the courtyard. Entering the keep proper, he hurried to the great hall, where the laird was sitting with his wife and their children. “There’s a Sir Udolf Watteson and his priest at the gates, my lord, requesting entry. English by the sound of him.”
Alix grew pale and looked wordlessly at her husband.
“I told you I should have killed him,” Malcolm Scott said. “Refuse him entry, and tell him if he returns to Dunglais again I will slay him.”
“No!Wait!” Alix called out to the man-at-arms. Then she said to her husband, “If you refuse him entry, I shall never be able to go outside the keep again as long as he is alive. He’ll send men to take me again. Let him in, I beg you. Let him see Fiona and little James. Let me tell him I am again with child to be born at year’s end. Together we can convince him, wemustconvince him, that his desire for me needs to be put to rest. The priest comes with him, and while old-fashioned in his thought, Father Peter is a reasonable man, Colm. And send for Father Donald to join us.”
“I want the children gone from the hall,” the laird said.
“Nay, let them remain. Sir Udolf needs to understand this isn’t just about a man and a woman. This is about a family,” Alix said.
“I don’t want them frightened, and this will eventually become unpleasant,” the laird said.
“If we see it degenerating, we will send them away,” Alix promised.
“Go and tell Sir Udolf he and his priest may enter. His escort will remain outside. He has my word no harm will come to either of them while they are in my house,” Malcolm Scott said.
With a brief nod the man-at-arms hurried off to deliver the message. Iver, who had heard everything, went to seek out Father Donald. By the time Sir Udolf and Father Peter had reached the hall of Dunglais, Father Donald was there as well. The Englishman’s eyes went immediately to Alix. He smiled. She did not smile back.
“My dear wife, I am happy to see you looking so well,” Sir Udolf said.
“I am not your wife,” Alix responded.
“Why are you here?” Malcolm Scott demanded.
“A year ago I went to King Edward and asked him for justice. He interceded for me at York, and York interceded with St. Andrew’s. This marriage union you claim with my wife is illegal. Holy Mother Church orders you to return Alix Givet to me immediately. I have come to you openly and honestly, my lord. I travel with no great army of men, but only with a small party to guard me while I journey.” He reached into the leather packet he carried and withdrew several sheets of parchment. “Here, my lord, are the documents from York, including a recent letter upholding my claim upon Alix Givet. If you can read, read them. If you cannot read them, have your priest do so.”
To his credit Malcolm Scott did not leap up and throttle the Englishman, although he was tempted to do so. He was a man of honor, and he had given his word that Sir Udolf would not be harmed in his house. But he did wave away the parchments. Instead he said, “My lord, do you see this girl who sits by Alix’s side? It is my daughter from a previous union. The only mother she has ever known is Alix. Do you see the bairn in Alix’s lap? That is our son, James Alexander, named for the late king, who was my friend, and for Alix’s father. And there is another bairn in Alix’s belly who will be born at year’s end. Now do you really believe, my lord, that anything written upon those parchments will induce me to give my wife, the woman I love and prize, to you?”
“The church and the law are on my side,” Sir Udolf said stiffly.
“To hell with both the church and the law!” the Laird of Dunglais said vehemently. “Whatever your documents may declare, Sir Udolf, Alix ismywife.”
“My lord,” Father Peter said quietly, “you cannot take a mother from her children.”
“Priest! You overstep your authority,” Sir Udolf snarled.
Suddenly Fiona jumped to her feet. “You will not take my mam from me again,” she cried, launching herself at Sir Udolf to attack him with her small fists.“You will not! You will not!”
The laird quickly rose and pulled his daughter from the startled Englishman.
The little girl yanked away from her father and tried to squeeze herself into Alix’s lap with her brother, who was now beginning to whimper nervously.
“Fenella, take the bairns from the hall,” Alix called out. She brushed a lock of black hair from Fiona’s small face. “I am not going anywhere with this man, Fi. I told you when I returned I would not leave you again. Now go with Fenella and play with James so he will not be frightened.” She kissed the girl’s tear-stained cheek.
“Aye, Mam,” Fiona said with a sniff, reluctantly taking her baby brother’s hand and helping him as he toddled from the hall. But before she left she gave Sir Udolf a fierce look that actually made him quail.
“The brat has the evil eye,” the Englishman declared, crossing himself piously.
“Let me see these documents you carry,” Father Donald said, quietly reaching out to receive them from his fellow cleric. Carefully he perused them, and then he said, “This letter purported to come from the bishop of St. Andrew’s does not. I know the handwriting of both of His Grace’s two secretaries and the four undersecretaries. The hand that composed this letter does not belong to any in St. Andrew’s precincts. Nor is the seal of the bishop attached, which it would have to be to be authentic. From where did this letter come?”
