None of it mattered. Some of his villagers would have escaped the borderers. They would return to rebuild the village, and it would be the same as it had ever been. He would take the cattle to the final cattle fair of the year while they were still healthy with their summer grazing. In the spring he would purchase another flock of sheep with the monies he had gained from the cattle sale. He would have no livestock to feed over the winter months, he thought, pleased with his own cleverness.

And best of all Alix Givet was still his. While her strong will was pleasing on one hand, for it indicated the kind of sons she would give him, on the other hand it was not at all agreeable. He would have to beat her regularly in order to keep her in line. It was imperative a wife maintain her place in the order of things. A man could not be overruled in his own house, but then, and he smiled to himself, she was young. Once she understood what was expected of her he was certain she would become a model spouse. Alix was intelligent, and no one could call her a fool despite her stubborn insistence that she loved the Scot whose child she carried.

Alix did not come out of her chamber after that, much to Sir Udolf's dismay. She did give orders from her self-imposed isolation that the hall was to be cleaned. She instructed the cook and his staff what to serve so that Wulfborn Hall once more became a pleasant habitation. But he did not see her, and she kept her chamber door barred to him. Only Bab was permitted admittance, and to Sir Udolf's surprise Bab became devoted to Alix. He considered denying her food and drink. Perhaps she would miscarry her bastard, and the connection she seemed to have with the laird would be severed. But Sir Udolf suspected if he did that his servants would see she wasn't fed and bring liquid refreshment.

Father Peter had escaped the conflagration that had engulfed the village along with some elderly villagers who had fled to the church for sanctuary. Sir Udolf knew they had been left in peace because the elderly were of little value. The priest made plain his disapproval of the master of Wulfborn's actions. "No woman," he told Sir Udolf sternly, "is worth the misery and destruction you have allowed."

"She is mine by right," the baron muttered.

"You are ensorcelled," the priest responded.

"Yet you went to York for me," Sir Udolf snapped. "Thrice!"

"Because you would not listen to reason," the priest said. "When I returned that first time and learned Mistress Alix was gone, I told you to look elsewhere, but nay, you would not. When my contact in York wrote that more coins were needed for God's work in order to make your dispensation a reality, I warned you to cease your foolishness and seek elsewhere for another wife."

"Were those at Yorkminster going to return my offering?" the baron demanded.

"Of course not!" the priest said irritably. "You gave it for God's work."

"I gave it to get my dispensation to marry Alix Givet. God's work indeed! We both know my coins went into the pocket of he to whom you gave it," Sir Udolf said.

"You might have had another to wife by now. I would have sought for another good woman of childbearing age for you among our neighbors' families if you had but asked me. And with God's blessing that wife might have proved fecund, ripening now with a son for you as Mistress Alix ripens with her husband's child, my lord."

"He is not her husband! Do not call that Scots savage her husband, Priest!"

"I will know if he is her lawful husband, as she claims, once I have spoken to her again," the priest told his master. "Where is the lady?"

"In her chamber," Sir Udolf said irritably. "She has been there since the Scots burned the village. She will not come out, and only Bab is permitted her company."

"I can see, however, that her influence has extended into your hall, for it is clean again as it has not been in months. And your table has been most tasty these past few days," Father Peter remarked dryly.

"Go and seek her out, then," the baron said. "And remind her of her proper duties as my wife and lady of Wulfborn." Then Sir Udolf held out the large goblet in his hand to be refilled, and a servant jumped swiftly to do his master's bidding.

The priest arose from the high board, where they had both been sitting. Familiar with the house, he found his way quickly to Alix's bedchamber and knocked upon the door. A voice within inquired as to his identity, and he answered, "Father Peter. I wish to speak with Mistress Alix."

"Are you alone?" He now recognized Bab's voice.

"I am, God's word upon it," Father Peter replied. He heard the heavy wooden bar being lifted from its brackets and then the iron key being turned in the lock. The door opened and he stepped quickly inside. At once he noticed the door was relocked and the bar replaced into its supports.

Alix sat by the small hearth in the room. It was burning merrily, and there was a large stack of wood on the wall next to it. A small iron pot hung from an iron arm that could be swung over the flame or not. The bed with its hanging curtains was neatly made, and the shutters at the window were closed, a drapery pulled across to shield it and keep out any draft that got through the shutters.

"Come, and sit down, Father Peter," Alix invited him.

There was a chair on the opposite side of the hearth from the settle where Alix now resided. Bab sat next to her, sewing a tiny garment. The priest found the situation most pleasant and normal. He sat down and then leaned forward to speak to her.

"Will you swear upon the good and faithful souls of your deceased parents now in purgatory to answer my questions honestly, Mistress Alix?" Father Peter asked quietly.

"I will," Alix replied, and she kissed the crucifix he held out to her.

"Were you married in God's church and under God's law?" the priest asked.

"The marriage contract between myself and the Laird of Dunglais was drawn up by Father Donald, the keep's priest. It was signed in the great hall beneath his eye and witnessed by the laird's uncle, Robert Ferguson of Drumcairn, and his wife, Margaret. We then went to the keep's chapel, where our marriage was blessed and a Mass held to celebrate the event."

"But was the marriage you entered into an honest and valid one, my daughter?" Father Peter inquired. "Was he fully apprised of your past?"

"He was. I held nothing back, Good Priest," Alix said candidly. "That is why when Sir Udolf came to Dunglais Keep several months back my husband kept me hidden. He wanted no difficulties with Sir Udolf."

"But you know, and if you are being honest with me, your husband knew Sir Udolf had sought a dispensation. And when he came to your home he said he had obtained that dispensation. Is that not so, my daughter?"

"It is," Alix replied. "But Father Donald had told us the bishop of St. Andrew's would have never upheld such a document. That is was undoubtedly obtained by means of fraud. Now you answer me honestly, Priest. Was it?"

The priest shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Bab cackled knowingly. "There was a donation made at Yorkminster for the archbishop's Christian work," he admitted to Alix.

"There was a bribe made," Alix responded dryly. "And not once, nor twice, but three times. Shame, priest! Shame! Now to salve your own conscience you must tell Sir Udolf I am indeed wed to another. That he must release me back to my husband."

"Lady, I have already given him such advice, but he will not listen, I fear," the priest said, sighing nervously, his cheeks flushing with her rebuke.

"Colm has burned Wulfborn Village, taken its people into bondage, and made off with the sheep. He has sworn to return for me, and he will. When he comes, he'll batter down the door to this house and kill Sir Udolf Watteson. I do not want my former father-in-law's death on my conscience, and it will certainly be if he persists in his foolishness. Has he lost his wits entirely? Why has he not sought out a local woman of good family to wed and give children to instead of insisting I must be his wife?"

"Lady, I do believe the death of his only son, his only child, has indeed rendered him somewhat mad. When I returned from York two years ago and you had fled in my absence, he alternated between rage and great sorrow. There was nothing we could do to calm him at first. He was surely as one who had lost his wits, but then he grew calm once more and spoke most reasonably. I suggested your flight freed him from any further obligation towards you, and at first he agreed. But then he began to worry because you had gone on foot, leaving your own horse behind. I said such action proved to me you were an honorable woman and wanted to begin your life afresh. He countered that as the beast had been yours when you came to Wulfborn it said to him that you were distressed. He said that you were obviously overwhelmed by his plans for you and had run off in your confusion," the priest told Alix.

Alix snorted. "I left because the thought of my father-in-law bedding me was utterly repugnant," she said.

"He searched the region for several days after you left," Father Peter continued, "but he could not find any trace of you. When it snowed he was frantic with worry, but I almost had him convinced that it was God's will you were not found. I said he must let me seek among his neighbors for a suitable woman of childbearing age to marry. I told him it was his duty to marry again."

"Why, then, did he not?" Alix asked the priest.

"A messenger came from Yorkminster from my contact asking for more coin to facilitate Sir Udolf's quest for a dispensation."

"Why did you not keep it from him?" Alix inquired.

"The message was most cleverly directed to Sir Udolf. He gave the messenger what was asked and sent him back to York even before he spoke with me," Father Peter said. "When I asked him why he had acceded to the request when he had decided to accept you were gone from him, he replied he had been foolish to even consider letting you go because he knew he would find you, that the two of you were meant to be together."

"God's foot!" Alix swore, irritated. What was she going to do about this stubborn man who held her captive? The fire in the hearth crackled noisily, and sparks flew as a gust of wind blew down the chimney.

"In midspring a third and final request came for more coin along with the promise that when it was received the dispensation would be immediately sent. Sir Udolf paid a third time and the bishopric was true to its word. The dispensation came."

"He has threatened to murder my child when it is born," Alix told Father Peter.

The priest grew pale, but then he quickly said, "I will not permit it, lady!"

"You must get him to listen to reason," Alix insisted. "My child should be born in his own home. And my little stepdaughter will be frantic with my absence. She does not remember her own mam, as she died years ago. I have been with her two years, and am the only mother she has ever known. Fiona will be eight next month. She is a dear little lass, Good Priest. I miss her."

"I will do my best to help you, my lady," the priest said. "Perhaps if you came into the hall Sir Udolf might be made to see reason more easily."

"Nay. If I come into the hall he will press his suit more forcibly, I fear. My presence will give him the illusion of normalcy. He must not have that from me. You must press him to find a suitable wife."

"I will do what I can, lady, but Sir Udolf has never easily been brought to reason when he set his mind upon something he wanted."

"I must go home to Dunglais," Alix said, and her voice trembled slightly.

The priest left her, and heedless of Bab, Alix began to cry softly.

"Take me with you," Bab said suddenly.

"What? What did you say?" Alix asked the woman sewing by her side, sniffling.

"Take me with you, lady. I know you have your own servants, but I will care for your bairn," Bab told her.

"Are you certain you want to leave Wulfborn? You were born here, Bab."

"After you ran away that first time he took a terrible dislike to me, as if he blamed me for what happened. Then, as I have told you, he beat me, blaming me for your flight. And not just once, lady. I took to keeping out of his way because if I did not he would as likely beat me as not. I peeped through the shutters at your man. He is strong and he is determined. He will come for you. Of that I have no doubt. When you go again, which you will, despite the master's wishes and the priest's hedging, Sir Udolf will look again to me to take his ire out upon. And if Father Peter can convince him to wed another she will not want me, for if Sir Udolf dislikes me she will as well in an effort to please him. I am not as young as I once was, lady. But I can work hard and earn my keep, and I do not eat much. You'll need a servant for your nursling, won't you? I tell you I would rather be the lowest slavey in your kitchens than remain at Wulfborn when you are gone."